


Monument of Love

by moonrabbitlove



Category: Yoroiden Samurai Troopers | Ronin Warriors
Genre: M/M, Sequel/Prequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-29 21:51:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6395224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonrabbitlove/pseuds/moonrabbitlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years since he found out about Seiji's illness, Touma's graduated from medical school and is now employed at a large pharmaceutical company. He and Seiji both reflect on the past, while trying to figure out what their present may be.</p><p>This my creative interpretation of what happened in the events leading up to "At The Stars" by morphaileffect. I highly recommend reading their fanfic first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [At the Stars](https://archiveofourown.org/works/303546) by [morphaileffect](https://archiveofourown.org/users/morphaileffect/pseuds/morphaileffect). 



> As stated in the summary, this my creative interpretation of what happened in the events leading up to "At The Stars" by morphaileffect. I do not personally know the author.
> 
> I cannot stress enough how much I highly recommend reading their fanfic first, because: 1.) it's what inspired me to write a YST fanfic, 2.) it's the original, and 3.) I don't want my "vision" to color how you read their story, if that makes sense. 
> 
> All plot points are inspired by At The Stars. All characterizations are based off of the author's interpretations.
> 
> This was written for my own piece of mind. :)
> 
> And for those interested, music always heavily influences my writing. While writing this, I had the following in heavy rotation - Björk - Vulnicura, Red House Painters - Ocean Beach, and the YST soundtrack Tori (it's this wonderful jazzy piano album covering YST songs!)
> 
> I haven't written a fanfic in ten years, so I hope you enjoy!

A cab was waiting outside. Touma, who was a very inexperienced traveler, had only the handle to a small rolling suitcase gripped in his right hand, and his always present briefcase resting on top. He had actually dressed up, lightly, at Seiji's suggestion, in order to appear more professional. It was a business trip, after all.

Seiji was trying to smile but something felt off. He was so used to Touma leaving, but only for a short while. Never for more than a workday, and not a week. This was truly a first. And he was so caught off guard, that he didn't realize he was frowning - and not just a frown but more of a grimace - as Touma turned toward the door.

He felt the sudden need to fix this. "Touma, wait--" It was muttered before he had a moment to think of what to say.

Touma paused, and turned in the open doorway, genuinely surprised by Seiji's sudden call. "Hm? Seiji?"

He didn't really have an answer.

"Is that really all you're bringing?"

"You're asking me this ? Now?"

"But, you're dressed so light. Winter in Boston is cold, much colder than Tokyo."

Touma shrugged. "I can buy something when I'm there. I'll be fine. The cab--"

But Seiji had gone to the small coat closet next to the shoe wrack, and reached within, pulling out a thick emerald green scarf. He didn't wrap it around Touma's neck, but instead gently placed the scarf in his hands.

Touma 's lips slightly parted as his eyes scanned the scarf. Realizing this expression had occurred, he quickly looked up to Seiji and arched his eyebrow.

"Yayoi knitted it for me. So I know you will take good care of it, and bring it back."

Touma had taken this moment of quietness to scan Seiji with a suspicious, quizzical eye. He was wearing newly prescribed glasses, large enough to frame his eyes, and with a thin black rim. Why hadn't Seiji noticed them until Touma was walking out the door?

"It'll make a great napkin," Touma smirked. He threw it loosely around his neck, so it hung U-like, long on either side. His hands traced the scarf, and he nodded in thanks. "Well, see you next week." He didn't wait for a reply.

\--

Touma practically held his breath until he had closed the cab door. As it pulled off down the road, and he was further from the apartment, he felt safe to relax his face. Though he could feel the sensation of tears fighting to escape his eyes, he fought them off. He refused to cry. He hadn't in a long time. No, that was already two years ago.

Two years ago, he had suddenly decided to study medicine. After an advanced, accelerated two years of school, he had already gotten a job, and was on his way to his first conference as a medical professional. He didn't want to go, but not only did his employer insist, but Seiji had as well. He had actually practically begged Touma to go, because he felt he deserved the experience and validation after so much hard work. And for someone so curious about the world, Touma had barely ever traveled, save a single trip to New York City years ago, and that was hardly for anything good.

No, Touma had to go on this trip, Seiji believed, because he needed to see that Touma was still living his life. That he was a young man with aspirations beyond this apartment.

Touma knew otherwise. He knew in Boston he would be dreading every second he wasn't a trains-ride away from Seiji. That in all honesty there was only one area of research that was of any interest to him or his time.

He wasn't crying. He refused to. Crying was something a hopeless man did.

He hadn't cried since the night he and Seiji moved in together.

\--

Every few months, the Troopers and Nasuti (and Jun when he had time), would reunite. These "reunions" were so often that really, why were they called reunions? They were always ebbing and flowing out of each others lives, so there was never really any distance. Except recently Ryo had gotten a very steady job as a photographer, and Shin had gotten a grant for pre-graduate studies to observe the local oyster population and their relationship with the various bay environments of Japan. So, who really knew if these outings would be the same for long.

This particular night, Jun wasn't available - which meant the group could do as little or as much drinking as they desired. And it was without question - karaoke in Shinjuku, followed by bar hopping in Golden Gai.

After a gut-busting dinner, the group had arrived to their karaoke reservation - made weeks ago by Shuu - and piled into the best room in the place. Drink orders were made. Touma playfully messed with the light settings (laughing as Seiji jokingly told him to knock it off - it was bothering his eyes), while Ryo, Shuu and Shin began immediately pressing numbers into the system.

The room was balanced madness - like this wasn't a room filled with now six professional adults with distinct careers and futures which were supposed to give them meaning beyond the events that had originally brought them together.

But soon, everyone had found their drunken groove in the privacy of this suite. Seiji had been explaining to Shin throughout the night the plot to his first real novel - the basis made as his thesis his senior year in his creative writing major. Shin wouldn't remember a lick of it until reading the published work months later. Shuu had promised Ryo to help him with his taxes. And Nasuti was huddled in a corner talking with Touma about how much of a pain it was to get research funding. Ryo had to throw a binder of songs at them to bring them back to reality. Nasuti promptly punched in a few songs.

The evening reached its apex with Shuu belting out "Ai No Senshi," a song he had unabashedly loved because, in his words, he could relate to it as a soldier himself. And he and Shin had a secret love for the song since seeing it in the original episode of Sailor Moon. At first they would laugh at it, but the irony of it had turned into full-blown appreciation. Nasuti was recording the scene with Ryo's new camcorder, and Ryo was scanning over the drink specials, cheeks flushed red from too much beer.

He never noticed that Seiji had slipped out for some fresh air a little longer than a "while" ago, or that Touma had gone to the restroom shortly after. Only Shin had taken note, and had made very little thought of it beyond coincidence.

\--

Outside, away from the joyous music, Seiji was standing under a marquee, further from the entrance of the karaoke parlor, but in the flashing lights of an adjacent arcade. His left arm was aching so terribly, and a tingling sensation ran through his fingers. He repeatedly made a ball with his fist, letting go every so often and wincing.

Touma had finally found Seiji here and watched from afar. Realizing what was happening, he let out a small gasp and quickly walked over. Seiji looked up in a half-asleep daze.

"T-Touma--"

He grabbed Seiji's hand and squeezed. Nothing. No reaction. He squeezed harder.

"Ow--" Seiji didn't pull his hand back.

He opened up Seiji's palm and began to poke. Seiji didn't watch, but rather looked away.

"How long has this been going on?" Touma's voice was deeply serious - and it was often hard for Touma to surpass his own seriousness.

"I'm not sure, to be honest. My memory is so foggy." Touma stared at Seiji, which made him uncomfortable.

"I don't even think I trust myself to remember."

"No," Touma's voice lowered into a growl. "Not good enough. You need to think."

Seiji stood nervously, looking down and wondering. The struggle to recall was evident on his forehead. "I would say--" he suddenly felt, and looked, scared. "sometime after we destroyed the armors."

Touma's eyes widened with worry. "You mean, without Kourin?"

Seiji felt some kind of stinging emotion well up in his head at the name of his old armor. "Yes...Kourin."

It wasn't often Touma was in the presence of a Seiji with glazed over eyes. A Seiji with a broken facade. But he had been there a few times, more so than the rest of the troopers, and he was familiar with its many complex nuances, much to his own private pride.

"Dammit Seiji, why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"No one knows, Touma. It's just me. And I don't really know if this is happening. If it's all in my mind."

Touma watched Seiji stare at his hand. He grabbed it again. "Squeeze my hand."

Seiji didn't want to anger his friend any longer, and did so. It felt like barely a sensation at all. But he felt Touma grip back tighter than any force. It didn't hurt, it just felt like pressure on top of a numb tingling.

Touma shook his head, and let out a pained sigh. "We should really tell the others."

"No - you cannot - cannot - do that. You can't. You weren't even supposed to see-"

"Seriously, Seiji? How could you not tell them? Especially when this happens after the armors disappear? What's happening to you may concern us all."

This time, Seiji really could not fight a stray tear or two from welling out of his eyes. "Because I don't want them to know. Please, Touma."

Touma stared at him in disbelief. But he knew this kind of logic coming from the person he knew so well.

"I mean, it comes and goes," Seiji had tried to change the tone of the moment. "I don't feel like this all the time. It was just bad in there. And it may really not be that serious..."

Touma gripped Seiji's forearms with both his hands. "I truly don't want to alarm you, but I don't think we should ignore this or believe it to just be in your head. Because this isn't something worth guessing on."

Seiji had nothing to say. He was trying to process if this was serious or not.

He lightly shook Seiji, just enough for them to make decent eye contact. "Do you hear me? This isn't worth guessing on. Not to me. Please. Let me help you. Don't do this alone." Don't exclude me. Don't keep me in the dark.

Seiji could not recall anytime he had seen such a look in the eyes of his best friend - a mixture of developing desperation and bitter anger. It was a look he would think of for the rest of the night, as he felt himself suddenly feel less alone after a year of on-and-off worrying.

He nodded. He nodded twice, and then furiously again. "Yes, you're right. You're right. I can't do this alone. I...don't want to..." Confront this. Burden you, or Ryo, or the others.

"Good," he nodded back. He wasn't so convinced by the dull shine in Seiji's eyes, but he had convinced himself, he had to, that he had reached his friend. In relief, he placed his hand on Seiji's back - not so much a friendly back-slap as a shy hug. "We'll talk about this tomorrow. Perhaps going back inside will help get your mind off this until then." He knew it were more complicated than that, but he suddenly felt the need to guide Seiji completely from any harm.

As they walked inside, Touma's hand lightly pressed to his back, Seiji noted to himself that he had seen Touma jump to arms for their team - with well thought out strategies and guidance - time and again - but never at this speed, and never with so much as a hint of mortified uncertainty.

\--

3AM and the night was trying to come to a premature close. Everyone was on some spectrum of inebriation - with, surprisingly, Touma and Ryo as the worst offenders. No, it wasn't Shuu for once.

Touma had re-entered the karaoke room shortly after Seiji, and ordered mojito after mojito. Everyone made fun of him for his choice, not questioning the sudden urge to imbibe so frantically, but Touma had always preferred sweetened drinks to beer or dry, bitter wine. Seiji, who had been nursing a vodka tonic, had decidedly stopped with the drink altogether. But no one took much notice.

They had later settled themselves in a cozy bar in the maze of Golden Gai, just the right size for ten or so people. The four other unlucky souls who shared the bar with the six reunited friends laughed to themselves in amusement at this truly unique group.

At some point, Nasuti had come up with a wonderful idea: "It's the weekend, guys. Let's have a sleepover, just like old times." The majority of the group cried in wonderful unison at this most blessed idea, and with the bar closing, dragged themselves outside. They happily began to talk about their old rooms - and what Shin would make for breakfast.

"Nas....Nasuti..." Touma was slung over Ryo's shoulder. "D...d-ya think you think we can all fit in your car?"

"I am most positive, if four of you can't fit in the back, we'll make room in the trunk--"

"You don't have to worry about me, I think I'm just going to turn in at my place." Everyone immediately groaned at Seiji. "I'm on a tight deadline, guys, sorry."

"Oh come on man," Shuu huffed. "Don't you carry around some kind of journal? Just jot some stuff down. We won't keep you too distracted."

Ryo looked the most distressed. "Seiji, that sucks man." He wobbled a little, Touma in tow. "We'll really miss you. Right, Touma? Tell your buddy to stay!"

Seiji watched as Touma hung from Ryo's arm. They both looked up at him, their large blue eyes - vulnerable from so much drinking - said so loudly that they wanted him to stay and make this time last. But his brain brought him back to so many insecurities, and so many excuses - with his writing being the most important. He had a valid reason. He should run.

"No, I'm sorry. You guys have fun." He noticed Touma stand up from hanging on Ryo. "Tell Byakuen I said hey."

Thankfully everyone understood, if still a little bummed. They walked with him to the Shinjuku JR Station, where Nasuti had parked. He hugged Nasuti tightly, and shook everyones hands. He worked up the energy to make sure his grip was as impressive as ever. And he felt Ryo's grip being just as strong.

They watched him walk through the turnstile, and blend in with the crowds of drunken groups, who all headed home or further for the night. He looked so young, Nasuti had thought. But that was already two years ago.

\--

On the plane to Boston, Touma replayed that night in his head, as he often did. He agonized over the desperately saved moments - detailed movements and words and sensations - of supporting Seiji's decision to leave for the night, and getting into the front seat of Nasuti's jeep, exhausted and drunk. Of the slow-motion tumble that led to him, now, on his way to an esteemed medical conference on behalf of his newest employer.

And how he was only on that plane because Seiji had begged him to go.

Seiji... He leaned his head against the airplane window, and let his hands slowly stroke the emerald scarf that hung over him now like a shawl. He was sleepy from packing all day and the on and off fighting and the rushing to make the plane.

He didn't know what to think of the gesture. Seiji was always sending him mixed signals, and this was his biggest signal yet.

No.. Touma knew. He knew what this was - what he had thrown himself into, and he hated it, so much that for a moment he wanted to just rip the scarf off and cast it flying into the sky.

But he knew he would dive right out after it. And he just couldn't afford to not cling to the meager rations of affection thrown his way. Of the rare closeness. Of the most intimacy he had received - from any living breathing thing - in such a long time - and it was not with Seiji but with his lingering scent on an old scarf.

He closed his eyes, and inhaled the smell with each labored breath. Soon, at this altitude, his low blood pressure would drag him into a very deep sleep. Not particularly peaceful, as no sleep had been since he came to know Seiji's illness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a note on the format of this fanfic: there are two timelines - present-time, and two years prior, from the varying perspectives of Touma and Seiji. I wanted to leave it up to the reader to realize what timeline is being talked about - it should become apparent as you read each section.

Touma was thankful that no one chose to sleep in his old room with him - because he had immediately begun pulling old binders off his shelves - writings, school transcripts, letters from colleagues and their numbers. He made a list of the topics he would research in the morning.

But he woke late, around 1PM. No one had bothered him because - in Ryo's words - it was like old times, waiting and guessing what time Touma would appear down the stairs. He had eventually come down to find cold pancakes and melting whipped cream and mushy fruits. The sleepover was a little less adorable than they had all pictured. In fact, Shuu could barely eat because he threw up at 7AM.

"I guess this is what grown-ups do," Shin laughed over coffee. 

Nasuti smiled along. "It blows my mind to see you all go from hot-headed teens to hungover adults. I feel like I've truly seen you all transform."

"I might feel sick now, but I had the best night of my life," said Shuu as he finally worked up the courage to bite a piece of strawberry. "Totally worth it."

"You have such a lovely singing voice, Shuu." Nasuti took a strawberry as well. The windows were open and a slight breeze gifted the group with some much-needed fresh air.

Shin laughed. "He really hits those high notes. Maybe they'll hire us to sing the next Sailor Moon opening."

"I just wish Seiji could have stayed," Ryo mused. "But I know he's been working really hard on his writing. Who would have thought."

Touma knew Seiji was a talented writer. Everyone thought those books on the shelf in their room were his, but a good half of them were short story collections, history, and biographies - all bought and read by Seiji. Touma had read a few as well, but not to the passionate extent that Seiji had. Sometimes they stayed up late, discussing a book they had both read and suggesting books to each other. 

He found himself smiling. Smiling at the image of Seiji's curved hand, bent towards a paper. At the thought that in their midnight chats, a drive had awoken in his friend to not just read those books but to create them as well. That the empathy and thoughtfulness of this friend could not be contained inside his own mind, but needed to spill out into binded collections for the world to experience.

"I'm proud of him," Ryo had continued.

"Me too," Touma added. And with that, he calmly stood up from the kitchen island stool, coffee in hand, and headed back upstairs. There was some spark in his exit. It was like old times, Ryo thought with contentedness.

\--

Upstairs, Touma booted up his old PC. He laughed as he remembered his old password, and laughed even more when he saw his pathetic desktop background - a poor photo he had taken of the moon with a low-grade camera.

The internet was slow, slower than at the lab, but he couldn't wait to research this. He looked up as many open-access medical journals as he could - topics on muscle pain, the effects of physical trauma, on brain functions, on multiple sclerosis and amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. He even thought to do a bit of digging on the relationship between a body's contact with extended electricity and trauma. With what very little information he had on last night's confrontation with Seiji, he soaked in what he could.

But he found that this access was so severely limited. Paid subscriptions to past findings, poorly maintained websites, unclear descriptions of the things he thought would give him a buoy to cling to - or a thread to begin pulling. 

He sat back, spun in his chair. He looked at the binders on his bed. At the book shelf with his and Seiji's books. A small insignificant picture frame on top of the shelf held a photo of Seiji at an old kendo tournament. He knew the photo well from sharing a room with it.

Last night's conversation had unleashed something very dangerous upon Hashiba Touma, and that was to give him a mystery he felt he could fix. 

He opened up a new browser, and began to look into some local universities and their medical research programs.

\--

Despite being winter, the sun was shining, and that was enough for Seiji to want to sit out on the balcony. He wore a heavy wool coat, thick pants, many pairs of socks beneath his slippers, and gloves. Yes, he hated being cold, but he loved the sun too much to stay inside.

Looking out across the city, he knew below people were on their way to work. He had remembered the hustle well as he had an internship at a well-regarded literary magazine. It paid nothing, but in the end he was able to convince some editors to publish a series of his short stories, all based in the Sengoku era. The beginning of what would turn into his now popular novel series.

His manager had commented that he had never read such promising material from a young man - and especially one that was an impressive mix of modern and historical writing.

That had been the best day of his life - he had never felt more validated, not even when in a tournament, or even defeating Arago, twice. He remembered how everyone was so surprised that he was a writer. Except for Touma. Touma had run out the day the magazine was released and bought five copies, plus made sure to buy some to send to his parents and Seiji's.

Touma had followed the short series and gave Seiji feedback. He had asked everyone for their thoughts, but it was only Touma who had offered any kind of constructive criticism. He didn't blindly praise the pieces. But he did blindly praise his friend for following his dreams.

In this moment, on the cold balcony, this memory was unlocked. Seiji followed the timeline in his head, his fingers unconsciously tracing the stems of a struggling plant branch that would bloom again in the spring. 

A timeline in which he saw that Touma had always had a role - where in the background of every scene, a blue haired man made himself ready to jump out should any issue arise. He wasn't obvious about it - at least until, that ultimate role had arrived in Seiji's life. 

And he didn't know how to respond to this blue haired friend or how to cope on his own. But he realized he couldn't do it alone, and so did the friend. The friend always knew. 

It was Seiji's turn to know.

\--

In the afternoon following the big night out, Seiji sat in a small outdoor garden, sipping tea. The space was the highlight to an otherwise small apartment he had rented a year into university so he wouldn't have to dorm. The lease would soon be up - and he wasn't necessarily attached to the place - but the garden would of course be sorely missed.

He stared at a particular section of the garden, one full of hydrangeas that seemed so insistent on being as un-uniform in color and shape as possible. He felt the sudden urge to write.

But the phone inside rang. And waking from his reverie, he walked inside, tea cup in hand.

"Hello?"

"Seiji, it's Touma. Did you get home okay?"

"Yes, I did. Thank you. How was the rest of the night?"

"Can't remember much of it to be honest." They both laughed. "I woke up after breakfast."

"Of course." Seiji smiled. Maybe he should have come.

"Listen, not to be hasty, but can we meet?"

Seiji paused. Looking down into his tea, he suddenly remembered all the alcohol he didn't drink last night.

"If you don't want to-"

"No. I want to. Tomorrow afternoon? My place?"

"Tomorrow morning?" 

"S-Sure..." Not like Touma to suggest a morning.

"Okay. Good. Tomorrow morning. I won't oversleep." Touma tried to chuckle. Seiji let out a slightly amused sound. "Take care, Seiji."

The phone clicked slowly. Touma hadn't been so hasty in that regard.

Take care. He wanted to think of something sad at this phrase (being a writer had certainly highlighted his own melancholia) but instead he remembered, my bonsai.

He dumped the remainder of his cold, bitter tea and refilled the cup with water. Walking over to a small, round mosaic table, he sat beside a petite bonsai plant and gently poured the water. There was never an issue of sharing a cup with such a dear friend.

This was the most soothing part of Seiji's day. Unlike most things in his life - writing, kendo, having been a trooper - this plant was confined to its small marble pot, and it had roots only there with him. They could both remain detached from anything, if for a while.

He reached into a small gardening box on the floor by the table and pulled out a small specialty shear for pruning.

At the first clip, he felt a pulsing in the center of his right hand. In an intense reaction, he dropped the shear and let out a yelp of pain. He was usually so restrained, but this was a new feeling. 

He tried to reach down, but the sensation happened again, running up his spine. He reacted with a swift wave of the arm, and sent his tea mug flying off the table, where it broke into many pieces. 

A cup Ryo had given him last Christmas. 

He breathed in and out to calm himself. Was it over? He stared at the bonsai plant, and continued to do what Date Seiji was renowned for: staying composed.

But that broken cup would linger heavy on his heart throughout the night.

\--

The next morning Seiji did not make tea. He woke instead with a revisit to a late-era Yukio Mishima novel, the windows open and a soft breeze through his recently showered hair. 

Around 8:30 AM, a firm knock was heard. He opened the door to find Touma, a small briefcase in hand. He looked like shit.

"You have hair all over you."

"Byakuen."

Seiji smirked. "Shedding season. I don't miss that."

"It doesn't help that I only wore mostly black clothes the other night. But I don't have anything else."

"Oh. Did you want a change of clothes?"

Touma waved him off and walked to the couch. "Doesn't matter. I'll be home soon anyway. But we need to talk."

"Okay. Let me just make something. Coffee or tea or--"

"No." Touma was firm. "Not needed. Not right now." He could sense Seiji was prolonging this conversation. But someone had to start this. He didn't care if it was him.

Seiji sat down in an armchair across from Touma. "Okay. Sure. Let's talk then."

"You were sick when you were young, correct?"

"Yes. It ran in my family."

"And this now, didn't start happening until after Korin- the armors -were destroyed?"

Seiji nodded.

Touma stared at him. Then continued. "I did some sleuthing last night. Actually all day. I read everything I could. Anything that could pertain to random paralysis, numbness, loss of body functions. And I made sure I spent some time talking to everyone. I talked to Ryo, Shin and Shuu - all separately of course - and never - I promise - never once mentioning anything about you to them - to see if they felt anything similar after the armors had left. I wasn't specific. Just anything at all. And nothing alarming came up. At least nothing anyone would tell me."

Touma noted at that moment that anger was starting to build up behind his friend's eyes, especially at the mention of the others. But he continued again.

"I read as much as I could. And never, never did anything come up that could be accurately applied to this. The further I dug the more frustrated I became. And I realized information for us is so limited. We aren't professionals. And a doctor wouldn't begin to understand anything about us, or you. And so..."

Touma looked down. "I made a decision. To get that access, and understand this better. I am going to medical school."

At this announcement, Seiji stood up and pushed his chair back with force. "Like hell you are. This is some kind of joke, right Touma? Who asked you to do such a thing?"

"No one."

"What about your astronomy degree? And your job?"

He shrugged. "What about them?"

Seiji scowled at this. "I'm not letting you do that. God damn it, Touma. You have no right.

"Seiji..." He stood up to reach his friend, but Seiji turned further away and looked down awkwardly to the ground, fists trembling.

"Was this your plan? To come here and make me guilty? How would I be able to live with myself if you threw away your future over something we don't even know is really happening?"

"What if this is serious and you don't even do that!" Touma called back. "Live with yourself, that is." His voice cracked.

"But--your job--your future---"

"What is the future, any future, without my best friend in it? Will I care about it then? Will I be happy I stayed in astronomy when I knew I could have done something, when I had the chance?"

They were both quiet for a while. Touma walked toward the bonsai, loosely tracing the branches with his delicate fingers. Seiji could have swore he was shaking, but he was across the room.

"I already sent in the applications. All of them. Early decisions, for the summer semester."

"I need to go lay down," was Seiji's response. Touma's first instinct was to ask if he felt okay, but he didn't want to irritate him further. So Seiji went into his bedroom and closed the door. The wind pushed Touma's hair and in the distance he heard a wind-chime in the kitchen window.

He went to go grab a glass of water, but paused when he noticed at the very top of the garbage was a broken tea mug. He remembered it was one of Seiji's favorites, and pulled the pieces out.

Hours later, Seiji woke to twilight. He immediately hated that he slept the day away. He had been doing that more lately. And then he remembered the conversation between him and Touma. Oh no, had Touma left as he slept? He was so rude, Touma was only trying to help in the only way he knew how. 

He walked out of his room - the living room was dark, save for some remaining sun which hit the end of the couch where Seiji spotted Touma's feet. He had stayed. He was snoring lightly, completely knocked out. Of course he couldn't handle meeting at 8:30 AM. But he had come.

His eyes read over his friend who looked so childlike when he slept. How was it that sleeping was this boy's natural state? Was it that in sleep Touma had no chance to challenge, or talk back, or push others to think beyond simplicity? Perhaps he would make dinner, and try to calmly talk to Touma when he woke, hopefully soon.

When he reached his kitchen, he became aware that there was a Touma-sized mess on his dining table. Among the crumpled newspaper, he spotted it: the tea mug he had broken yesterday, put back together piece by piece with fine lines of glue. It was apparent it had once been broken, but it was put back together with as much care as possible for broken ceramic. It was as whole as it could be again after so much trauma.

Seiji immediately went to go make tea. 

\--

The day had flown by and surely Touma had landed in Boston by now. He was probably settling into his hotel.

Seiji had given him a list of ideas to do - landmarks to explore, foods to eat. He really wanted Touma to have his own experiences.

But now, selfishly, Seiji sat idly at the dining room table thinking how he wanted to be there, too. Touma had suggested he come, but he was so intent on some healthy distance that he didn't realize a trip would have been good for him, too.

He thought he would get some writing done in peace, but he hadn't touched his writing all day. He had a deadline for his third novel. There was some leverage due to his popularity, but the publishers were putting pressure on him to finish as soon as possible.

Perhaps a walk would do him well. He opened the door to find a stuffed mailbox. Touma was gone less than 24 hours and he had already forgotten to check for mail.

His heart stopped when he saw a new postcard from Ryo, this time sent from Argentina. A stunning aerial view of Buenos Aires.

_Touma- Starting (for real this time!) to read Seiji's book on my hotel balcony. Took a break to write to you. It's not a novel, but the picture should say enough. If you see Seiji, tell him I said the book is great. Congrats on the new job. Ryo._

Seiji smiled. Thank you for reading, Ryo. 

The postcard was like a beacon. He turned back into the apartment, and placing the postcard by his open notebook, began to write fervently. He forgot to eat dinner, and would write until the early hours of morning.


	3. Chapter 3

The lights of downtown Boston blinked like frozen icicles. It was as cold as Seiji had predicted.

Laying in his hotel bed, Touma had tried to unwind from a long day of talks and panels by reading but the distance had made him crazy. Calling Seiji was too expensive, and he knew it would anger him anyway to reach out and smother him a day into his trip.

He closed his eyes and thought back on the afternoon he came home and received four acceptance letters in his mailbox. It had been nothing to him. He knew as he went on application interviews: exactly what to wear, what to say, what connections to exploit. Past classmates in different fields made calls for him.

These classmates had all asked him the same question. Why? After all that work studying astronomy? Leaving your dream job?

To better myself, he always replied.

To this day, he gives the same answer.

\--

"I don't understand," Nasuti's voice was in its natural state of concern. They were in her backyard for a barbecue, and she was the first one he told.

"I was beginning to get bored," he answered idly.

"What will your parents think?"

"I already told them." He hadn't. "They're excited for me."

Nasuti took a sip of her lemonade, looking away from Touma pensively. "You worked so hard for years on astronomy. Touma, I'm still so confused."

Panic. He knew Nasuti would be tough to talk to but he had to make this as sure as possible. His answer had to pass her radar, because if she supported and believed him, so would the others.

"Nasuti, do you ever feel trapped? Like you are just so young and you maybe hope to do more? That perhaps this idea that once we graduate, our education is effectively complete? It just doesn't sit with me."

She had looked back up at him.

"It's not that I feel trapped, but that I had an epiphany lately that astronomy isn't the only thing that interests me. I feel there is enough room up here," he pointed to his head and smiled, "for both, and even more."

Nasuti smiled warmly at him and placed her hand on top of his. "Oh Touma. You have always amazed me. I knew when I met you that you were just so smart, so gifted. If this is what will make you happy, I'm completely on board."

He gripped her hand in relief. "Thank you," he had meant this so much.

"So I believe congratulations are in order. Have you made a decision of which school?"

"It's a tough choice. But Tokyo Medical has offered me close to a full scholarship."

"Touma...that's..." Nasuti had begun to tear up, but she composed herself. "You're always surprising me with your brilliance."

This comment had struck him deeply, and it would continue to do so, even leading up to his recollection as he lay, two years later, in that hotel bed in Boston. Nasuti had always been a best friend, an older sister, a very large piece of a found-family puzzle. And he had always respected her so much for her own accomplishments and intelligence. Her pride for him in that moment had given him hope and validated this decision. She thought he was brilliant. Perhaps Seiji's illness would believe the same?

"Have you told everyone else?"

"No, just you. To be honest, I'm nervous."

"You shouldn't be. Everyone knows what you are capable of. They'll support you, too."

"I hope so."

He decided to wait until after dinner. By then, everyone would be in such high spirits that they wouldn't want his strange life-pivot to destroy the mood. Although, Seiji's lack of appearance had upset everyone at first. He told them all that he was meeting with a publisher, so they understood. It was true, Seiji was meeting with a publisher, but on Tuesday. Today, he was very unwell. A complete attack on his body last night had left him weak and tired, and in one instance, he had thrown up. Touma didn't want to go to the party either, but Seiji insisted he go, if only not to raise any suspicions of two absent friends.

As Touma poured himself some sangria, Jun, Ryo, Shuu and Byakuen came running into the backyard. They were soakng wet from an impromptu dive in the lake.

"Welcome back everyone!" Nasuti rose, smiling. "How was the water?"

"Perfect, Nasuti! Thank you so much," Jun exclaimed. He was fifteen now, and had matured beyond his years, most likely from his many experiences with the troopers. He still carried a hint of his old ten year old self, the boy that everyone could never disassociate from the young man before them now.

"Pretty nice having our own private lake," Shuu rubbed his wet hair with a towel. They all sat at the patio table with Touma and Nasuti.

"It's been excessively warm for early June, hasn't it?" Nasuti responded, pushing towards them bowls of popcorn and chips.

"For me, it's paradise. After experiencing the heat in India," Ryo took a sip of beer. "I'll never complain again."

Shuu rolled his eyes playfully. "Oh, did you go to India, Ryo? I might've forgotten."

Ryo became self-conscious, despite Shuu's obvious smirk and wink. "I know I've been blabbering a lot about it. But I'd never been outside Japan before. It was the first time someone ever paid me to...well, do what I love and take photos."

"You went to take photos of Holi, right?" Touma had a mouth full of chips.

"Yeah! It was beautiful, Touma. I saw many people - all kinds of people - out in the streets throwing colors - like powders - at each other. They were laughing and smiling. I believe it was some kind of representation of something."

"It's a celebration of the start of spring for many Hindus - and the beginning of harvests and saying goodbye to winter," Touma replied dryly. "What you saw was a symbolic gesture - based off of a story in which Krishna paints the face of Radha any color he wants, and they fall in love."

"I had no idea. Thank you Touma." Ryo was truly thankful. He knew this was Touma's way of helping. "I was just honored to be there, and to get so many beautiful shots"

"That sounds so cool Ryo," Jun sounded genuinely happy for Ryo, and Ryo smiled back. "Did you eat a lot of good food?"

"Oh, yeah. The best. And being a vegetarian was so easy. They had this stuff-I can't remember-paner or pan or something? It's like a cheese. But the best cheese I ever had."

"Paneer," Touma laughed - it wasn't mean-spirited, but Ryo looked down. He would need to do more research before future trips.

"Right. Yeah, paneer. It was delicious."

"Speaking of food - I am going to go inside and help Shin, see what needs to get done," Nausti began walking to the house, carrying some stray cups and plates. "We should start grilling soon."

"Alright!" Shuu cheered. "Anyone up for some baseball?"

Touma's face lit up.

The four of them spent the next hour casually playing baseball. Well, kind of. Shuu and Touma were taking it much more seriously than any casual barbecue game should be played. Nasuti and Shin watched from the grill, laughing stupidly at how devolved the four had become within two innings. Their attentions soon wandered to frisbee and badminton.

They had a feast, and enough sangria and beer to put Byakuen in a permanent coma. They laughed and chatted over a strawberry shortcake that Jun had help Shin make earlier in the morning. The day had an air of perfection to it, except for the obvious lack of one friend who was mentioned in countless conversations.

The sun was setting, and the five of them lounged on the patio, sipping drinks and listening to the summer bugs trickle in slowly. Jun spotted a firefly and promptly freaked out. He loved fireflies.

"I'm so glad we were able to get together," Shin smiled. "Seiji's impressive, isn't he? He says he will write a book, and goes and writes a damn book."

"Right?" Ryo sighed. "And now, meeting with a publisher? Three years since our armors, and look what we've done, you guys."

Shin nodded. "We've really found our grooves."

"Well--actually." The sudden sound of Touma's voice had cut through the night. He had been quiet for some time. Drinking often made him space out. Everyone looked up at him with curious, sunken-eyed stares.

"Go ahead, Touma. Tell them," blurted Nasuti.

Ryo's face turned to worry. "Touma?"

"I have some news--good news. Good news." He tensed up. It was good news, apparently.

"Well?" Shuu was impatient. "Come on, dude!"

"I've decided to go to medical school. I've already been accepted. And I begin this summer. End of this month."

At this announcement everyone, save Nasuti, stood up and leaned in at Touma, all shouting at once.

Medical school? Why medical school? When did this happen? What about astronomy? We thought you liked astronomy? We never knew you were interested in medicine? How long did you know? Why did you wait to tell us? Does Seiji know?

He answered everything patiently. Through his tired mouth, he wanted so badly to directly say it: that this was gravely important, that there's a new enemy, you guys. This drastic change was to win a war. But he knew what Seiji wanted, and he had to respect it.

At the end of the night, they had exhausted all conversation. And in the end, they were supportive. Hesitant and confused, but supportive. This was their genius friend, after all. He knew better than they did. They made a toast to his new endeavor.

Cleaning up, Ryo approached Touma privately. "You really amaze me, you know that?'

"Are you angry at me?"

Ryo smiled. "Hell no, Touma. Maybe a little. But that may be my own, you know, bias showing. You've always been the star-gazer. The kid with his head in space. Maybe that's not who you are."

Ryo stared into Touma's eyes. As friends who had been to war - to hell and back - he thought he intimately knew this blue-haired man. He was a soldier of Tenku, a skilled archer with a limitless quiver of golden arrows, and a crucial tactician. And from that time it was just them in the Dynasty, he had always believed they had a bond.

Touma's tired eyes stared back into Ryo's. Blue on blue, they were two limitless skies that had no distinct border, for the sky was so massive. Funny enough, both had been to space.

His body moved mechanically. He wrapped his arm with drunken playfulness around Ryo's shoulder, and laughed. Ryo made a small sound of surprise, and shrunk down at the surprising weight of his dear friend.

"Ryo, I still don't know who I am. But I know-I will always love space. That does not change."

Of course, thought Ryo. He is still that kid with his head in space.

After all, space was where the sun, that infinite source of light and life to beings on earth, was.

\--

Touma got back to his place in Kyoto around 2AM, and immediately called Seiji. He knew Seiji had gone to Sendai for the weekend, but he couldn't wait to get the message to him, and couldn't leave such a message on his parents' machine.

"Seiji, it's Touma. Barbecue went well. You were severely missed by everyone. But I hope you don't worry too much about it. I hope you're having a nice time in Sendai with your folks.

"I told everyone. About my decision. They were very supportive. Happy, even. But I haven't told you this yet...

"I got into a school. A few, actually. But I've chosen Tokyo Medical. I plan to accept tomorrow, and put my two weeks in at the lab. I'm not going to wait. Thankfully the classes start at the end of this month. I also owe you a birthday drink."

Touma was careful trying to choose his words. He wanted to be hopeful, even in the face of this frustrating unknown.

"Call me when you get home. I want to read the last chapter of your book."

\--

Seiji woke in the middle of a night with a coughing fit. This was what he hated the most - the times when this burdensome illness would wake him from sleeping, and he would be forced to lay there in the dark.

He was also annoyed because he remembered the long tirade Touma had gone on - before he left- about the possibilities of what his body would do, how he needed to react, and to take notes.

He shuffled out of bed to go to the bathroom, but paused when he passed by Touma's room. The den of knowledge, full of notes and books and charts. Something pulled him forward, and he crept inside. Approaching the desk, he turned on a small lamp and sat in the desk chair.

So this was Touma's perspective on so many nights. Scraps of papers, post-its with nonsensical sentences, books with dog-eared pages and highlights. Then there was a shelf dedicated to Seiji's books, first editions organized in chronological order. He opened up the very first book, where he had written inside: _Touma, the first reader, thank you for always supporting me. Your friend, Seiji._

Touma was always supporting him. He knew, from many arguments of the past two years, that he shouldn't feel this guilt. But it wasn't exactly guilt. Or even an emotion. Rather, a sudden unlocking of visions which flooded his mind.

His best friend coming home at one in the morning from school, just to wake up at six again for more classes. Cramming in this room all day so he could graduate ahead of schedule. Falling asleep on the floor surrounded by open books.

All of them so vivid, so very real as he sat at this desk.

There was a piece of paper with a schedule of events for the conference. It was about 2PM there now.

Seij picked up a phone on the desk and dialed. No answer, but a voice-mail prompt.

"Touma, it's Seiji. It's 3AM here. I didn't feel like writing a note but, yes, I did wake up coughing. I'm okay."

As Seiji spoke, he rolled a paperweight from Touma's desk in his hand.

"Do you remember almost two years ago? You had just found out about what was happening to me, and decided to go to medical school. I was so angry at you. But you didn't care. You did it anyway. You took out more loans. You quit...your job. You lied to your parents for a while. Touma, I was so angry at you. I think I still am, a little bit."

He laughed into the receiver. Fix this, Seiji.

"You already knew that, though. That I was angry. But did you know I was thankful, too? That of all my friends, you were the one to pick up on how I was. You figured me out and didn't run away. You made me confront this. You kicked my ass and told me to stop being ashamed. You're still kicking my ass, and I'm okay with that.

"I remember coming home one weekend and hearing a voicemail you left me, asking me to read my last chapter. And I took you up on that drink and that chapter. But not once did I say thank you, or congratulate you. For graduating, for the job. I'm proud that you're at that conference. I know you didn't want to go. But I'm proud of you."

You're rambling, Seiji. It's 3AM.

"I'm going to go to bed now. Please don't call me back, freaking out. I'm fine. I'll see you this Friday. Get home safe."

Talking that much took a lot out of him. He wasn't sure if he had even said the right things. He was a writer but could never communicate the correct feelings he had. They were more complex than happy, or sad. He just felt, Touma. A sense of Touma. And who could simplify that?

And he tried to simplify it in his head, as he curled up on Touma's bed and immediately dozed off, with the lights still on.


	4. Chapter 4

The same week Touma started medical school, Seiji signed a contract to publish his book. Seiji had called everyone individually to let them know, and each time was met with ecstactic praise and questions and an offer to take him out and celebrate. And each time he responded with a thank you, that means so much, but maybe another time, soon, okay?

The signing had come just in time. Seiji's lease was ending at the end of July. With most of it, and years of savings and small inheritance money, Seiji would be able to afford a new place with ease. A nice place, even. He wanted badly to leave the city, but meetings with agents, managers and editors would require him to be in Toyko more often than he realized. And then there was Touma.

They had met to celebrate the book signing, and to talk about Touma's first day of classes. Touma bought Seiji lunch and Seiji bought Touma ice-cream, which they ate in Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden. They sat on a bench surrounded by willow trees, and Seiji realized he had seen more of Touma in the last few months than throughout all of their undergrad years. This comforted him, despite the circumstances.

That afternoon Touma had explained to Seiji that if they were to take this seriously, Touma would have to ask him as many questions about his health, and his health history, as possible. And that it was most important that they weren't far from each other, in case of emergencies, and so Touma could observe him. Seiji understood and accepted this.

At the time, Touma was commuting to school from Nasuti's place. But he knew this would eventually become stressful, and he felt he was imposing on her. She had been seriously seeing someone, and he felt they needed their privacy.

They both knew what had to happen next. Seiji looked for, at minimum, a two-bedroom apartment.

\--

Home was the word that rang in Touma's mind for the rest of the week.

He hadn't returned to his hotel until well after dinner - having grudgingly gone for drinks with a few stray conference attendees he found from Japan - and figuring there was nothing for him back at his room.

So, in complete shock at having missed the call, he listened to Seiji's message over and over as he fell asleep. 

And the thought of home, his--no--their home, flooded his thoughts. A state of mind he gave up on when he realized Seiji would never believe that what they shared was a home. But Seiji had asked him to get there - to him - safe.

And that he was proud of him.

The rest of the week Touma attended the conference full of a new-found enthusiasm to take the opportunity seriously. He would make Seiji proud. He would fight to sustain this good feeling.

He spent an afternoon actually looking around for the landmarks Seiji wrote down. He saw where the "Boston Tea Party" apparently happened, he saw American baseball at Fenway Park, and ate a "Boston Cream Pie" (it was amazing, he had several). With each place he ventured through, he felt as though Seiji were right there along with him. Especially with his scarf.

In the back of his mind, he knew it was stupid and immature to feel this way. It had been a vicious cycle for years when it came to the one person who could do this to him. He had learned to just accept that this was just the way things are. 

\--

The summer moved along.

Shin was collecting data. Shuu was moving on to manage more family restaurants. Ryo was in Europe. Touma was now studying again full time. 

Seiji was unable to move.

He had been ready to walk out the door to see an apartment, when he began to shake with pain and collapse. He had had attacks before, but this was a distinct attack - the first wave, as he would later call it. The first time the illness would have a major impact on his daily life. 

Fortunately, he was able to pull himself to a phone and call the school department where Touma was studying. 

Touma left class immediately. When he arrived, Seiji was on his couch. He must have struggled over there. He knelt down by his friend, and could sense the helplessness and confusion in his face. 

"Seiji, I am so sorry," Touma was out of breath. 

"For what?"

"I wasn't here."

"I know you weren't. I don't expect you to be by me all the time."

But Touma saw it in his eyes. Real fear. 

He watched his friend wince and writhe on the couch, and this image brought him back to New York City, and falling into water, and looking up and seeing Seiji there, high above him, screaming with eyes shut. 

How many times was he to watch his friend suffer? 

Touma wanted to continue beating himself up, but that wouldn't help ease Seiji's fear. This was the time Seiji needed him to diffuse the situation, to know what to do.

"You haven't had any attacks lately, correct?"

"Right."

"This shouldn't last long. You've had only minor attacks in the past, and this is a rare occurrence. You may have been exerting yourself a little too much, and provoked it all at once, retroactively. Do you understand?"

"Y-yeah." Seiji sighed deeply. "Thank goodness."

"It should pass, with rest. In the future, it's important to take things slowly. But I know there's been a lot of change lately and this move won't help."

"I'm sorry I made you leave class."

Touma waved his hand. "You kidding me? The professor had us introducing ourselves. You saved me."

"I had an appointment to see the apartment. A really nice one, too."

"Oh yeah?"

"It was three bedrooms. I figured one could be an office. There's a balcony. In Minato."

"M-Minato?!" Touma choked over his words. "That's a bit out of our price range."

Seiji shook his head. "No, I want to do the down-payment. The advance was really good. I've always wanted to live by the water. And besides," Seiji's voice lowered to a thoughtful whisper, "the balcony faces east."

There was that feeling in Touma's chest, the one he had come to know since meeting the troopers. It was like a rising balloon that would start in his gut and float to his head. A dizziness from often realizing that despite his upbringing and his previous belief that he could never be anyone to anybody, that he was wrong. And he was wrong to think no one could ever be anyone to him, either. He could be wrong. He could be.

This swelling of thoughts caused him to chuckle uncontrollably, until he looked up at Seij's surprise.

"I don't mean to laugh but," Touma glanced at his watch. "I think I can make that viewing for you."

\--

At the time, it was an odd sensation to be faced with such a frightening future, but at the same time accept those changes with joy.

These were the kinds of emotions that clouded Touma's thoughts as he unloaded the first box from the moving truck. The transition from Kyoto was incredibly simple (except for maybe the fact that he had to really crunch time on his day off to finalize things down there and drive back up to Tokyo), as he had very little possessions beyond books. He had left Seiji in charge of filling the home with whatever furniture was necessary or missing.

Seiji had insisted on moving his own things. Touma actually supported this, because he felt it was more important that Seiji stay active. Not intensely active, but it would be worse for him to not use his body. 

He came upstairs to find Seiji by the balcony door, watching over a delivery man who was setting up a small greenhouse. He turned upon hearing Touma enter.

"You're back! Welcome to your new home."

Maybe it was the short time away from Seiji, but Touma couldn't help but feel his smile was different. In this place, it was very bright.

"So it is." He paused, smiling back. "Tadaima."

They both chuckled.

"Okaeri."

He felt blood rush to his cheeks, and awkwardly shuffled the large box in his arms.

Breaking the silence, Seiji moved forward. "Here, let me help you with that."

Seiji took the box and walked off to the office. Touma inched around, absorbing in this place that was now home. Even with all their boxes and things, the place looked large. He wasn't used to such high ceilings or a spacious kitchen. There was even a dining area. 

The rest of the day Touma and Seiji spent unpacking. Touma played some Yellow Magic Orchestra on Seiji's state of the art sound system (it was a surprise to Seiji to see Touma bouncing his head along as he organized his books in a trance). A few more deliveries were made, including a massive one from a take-out place. 

They had pushed themselves past sunset without noticing. But the sky had been a brilliant layer-cake of colors - red, yellow, orange, green and blue - all fading downward ontop of black.

Realizing how late it was, Touma went to check in on Seiji in his new room, "I didn't realize the time, everything okay in here?"

Seiji nodded, "Doing great. Just finishing in here." He reached into a box, and pulled out what appeared to be a very delicately packed frame, and gazed down at it with an air of sadness.

Before Touma could ask what it was, he realized he didn't want to know. Seiji had carefully unwrapped the frame, a not particularly large photo, of him and Ryo. It was taken by Nasuti at her home, the summer after they had permanently defeated Arago. 

Hesitantly, Seiji put it up on a shelf, along with many other group photos: of him and his family, and with his friends. The one with Ryo stood as the only one separate from a group. His hands lingered as his fingers traced the frame.

"Touma," Seiji had spoken so softly, it was barely aloud.

"Hm?" He didn't know how to sound.

"Do you miss being a trooper?"

"Not at all," was his very quick response. "I'm happy we're still alive, that we no longer have to fight."

"I see," Seiji mumbled. He was pensive for a moment. It wasn't lost on Touma that he was looking up at the photo of Ryo.

"Do you?"

An unnerving silence.

"No," his voice was uneven, wavering, "because I'll always be a soldier."

Seiji looked up, and to Touma's surprise, there were tracks of tears on his cheeks. "I just don't know if I'm an honorable one."

Touma stepped up to him. "What do you mean? Of course you are. Seiji, you've always-always- been the most honorable, of any of us--"

"Then how am I supposed to protect him?" He spoke through a gritted jaw, fighting hard not to sound agonized, but unable to control it. "I'm not very honorable when I can't use my body to protect him."

Tears now freely fell down his face. A cry Touma had never before witnessed from his oldest, dearest friend.

Seiji's sobs filled the apartment, and Touma's mouth went dry. He tried to respond, but he felt that if he did all that would come out was vomit. 

But he couldn't watch this. Not anymore. Not ever.

Without thinking, he pulled Seiji into his arms. He conjured his most confident voice.

"That won't happen." 

He softly rocked Seiji, who seemed not at all aware where he was, not even that his face was pressed into the side of his friend. 

Seiji's cries began to slow, until he was only gasping for air. Touma could feel his heaving, labored breaths.

"I would never let that happen," he continued. 

"Touma..."

"I will fix this. It'll be like this never happened. Like you were before. Good as new." 

At this assurance, Seiji had returned, from whatever height he had floated away to. 

"Thank you," Seiji had practically moaned this into Touma's arm. He could feel the weight of his friends fears. "Thank you, Touma. Thank you."

Touma was staring out the window, at the heavens of which his own armor, his soul, were a part of - and he couldn't, in his own panicked mind, define whether that heaven were present now with him. Or if Tenku had ever really been the armor of the heavens. Or if he had been told it was, and blindly, stupidly believed that to be true.

Seiji shook and gripped Touma with his full strength. But Touma felt him shivering. Or maybe it was him that was trembling. He pulled Seiji closer.

"Good as new," he whispered. For his own comfort, he rested his chin on the top of Seiji's head and closed his eyes.

\--

After Seiji had calmed down, he said he needed to go to bed. Before Touma could close the door, he heard Seiji once more:

_I'll never forget this. Thank you, Touma._

The air in the apartment had continued to make him feel nauseous. So, he went for a walk - going as far as a park along the bay, where even the humidity of August could not dissipate. But it was a better alternative to the scene that had occurred shortly before.

Touma sat on a bench and put his face in his hands. He had always suspected Seiji felt that way, but deep down he couldn't accept it. 

Moments flashed - of all the times Seiji had made it clear that no one could know, that he begged Touma to never tell the others.

Who he really didn't want to tell was Ryo.

He was protecting Ryo.

Protecting, as an any ideal soldier would.

And the plot to Seiji's first book, which Touma had really liked, suddenly had a new meaning to it. 

How could he be so naive. So stupid.

Much like Seiji before, Touma could not hold back his sobs. Boats passed by on the harbor, and he was certain the sailors and those working on the docks below could hear. He could feel each cry bounce against the pavement below his feet, as he bent down, hands over his eyes. The sound hurt, but then again, so did his whole head.

Pounding and pounding. He was tired of thinking. He had done so all week at school, and on the drive to Tokyo. His thoughts had been drowning him since that fated night at karaoke, which now seemed so long ago. And he tried to breathe rhythmically, to calm himself and escape the moment. He couldn't even look up at the stars, for the light pollution by the river was just too great. 

Nothing could slow this brain down. 

He felt strange, and alienated, and trapped. And even though he could turn and see the high-rise they now lived in, he felt far from any home.

He couldn't even be alone with his thoughts. His only solution was to go back home and go to sleep. He was tired enough. He had school tomorrow, and then he could be distracted again, and he could barrel forward as he had been before.

Still, on the walk back, he continued to fight back tears, soaking his sleeves and irritating his eyes. He was nervous to walk in and find Seiji in the living room.

He turned the key to the unfamiliar door and slid inside.

The entire place was dark. Not a soul to catch him in this state.

He slipped off his shoes, and murmured to the empty room.

"Tadaima."

\--

Seiji was too embarrassed to ever bring up the night again. And Touma, too, never brought it up. 

But Seiji would never forget how it was the hardest he had ever cried in his entire life. It was like shedding a layer of anxiety. His greatest fear from the oncoming sickness was that he would never be able to fight, if asked to do so again. That he would not be able to be there for Ryo, and serve him as he was meant to do for all of these years.

Good as new.

These words had given him hope. When in the middle of the night, or even in the day, and he began to panic from the thoughts of what was happening to him, he would remember these words. They would call out in the voice of Touma, and he felt safe. He felted protected.

Such were his thoughts as he sat in a cafe downstairs, drinking chai tea and scribbling in his book. He tried his best to hide in a corner, but still a few patrons would spot him and shyly come up. 

"Excuse me? Are you...are you Rin Koujiro?"

And their faces would light up when he would quietly nod in return.

He didn't mind. It was a beautiful day, despite being winter, and the sun floated large over the city with no clouds in sight. The cafe playing music he loved, he felt his feet tapping. They had pumpkin pie. Touma was coming home today.

He was feeling thankful. 

Good as new.

That evening he did something he had never done before. He made a cake. It wasn't particularly a pretty cake, but he knew it was better than anything Touma could make. And being matcha, it might make him feel at home.

Seiji found himself sitting in the living, bobbing his head between a magazine and his watch. It was eight. Touma had actually called to let him know the plane would land around six, which hopefully meant he would be in the door soon. 

He stared at the door of their home, the now familiar door he often watched when he knew Touma came home from class. He glanced over the shoe wrack, where mostly it was his own shoes, but a few old shoes of Touma's as well, including his house slippers.

As he sat in his thoughts, eyes staring at the door, the key began to turn. Click. Touma pushed through, exhausted, with his rolling suit case. He was wearing a Boston Red Sox hat. He looked so flustered, so silly.

Seiji stepped up to the door, an open smile.

"Hey there, Yankee," he quipped. 

"Seiji!"

Touma was unable to process this moment and, casting off his shoes and abandoning his suitcase, pulled Seiji into an embrace. He did not notice Seiji close his eyes, but he felt Seiji's hands grip his shoulders.

Realizing how out of character this was, Touma pushed himself away gently and composed himself. 

But he couldn't help that physically being before Seiji's violet eyes had stirred him to be more open than any time before. That they were better in person, than being thought about thousands of miles away, alone. He gripped Seiji's arms, a familiar Touma-gesture.

"Tadaima," he said, triumphantly. 

"Okaeri," Seiji met Touma's enthusiasm.

They let the moment last, until Seiji couldn't help to share his surprise.

"I made you a cake."

"Are you kidding me?"

"No. I can bake, you know."

"No, I mean-"

Touma picked up a large shopping bag and pulled out a large, brown square box. "I hauled all of these back from the US. Boston cream donuts."

"Are those all for you?"

Touma had no words, but smirked. They weren't all for him, but he knew how to make Seiji laugh.

And he did. He began to laugh uncontrollably, and soon Touma did as well.

"But I think I'd much rather eat the cake right now."

"Okay, good. I worked hard on that thing!"

Their laughs grew, and Seiji, a donut already in his hand, went to go cut Touma a piece of the cake.


	5. Chapter 5

Much to Touma's horror, he was up early the next day because of jet lag. The apartment had such a serene quality this time of day, and he often tried to relish it while running out the door to class or now work. 

Seiji would always be up already with a pot of coffee, scribbling away at the dining room table. But it was even much to early for this scene, and so Touma made the pot of coffee, and sat outside on the balcony with a slice of cake and some notes.

He ate slowly as the sun rose in plain view, and soon began to cover himself and Seiji's greenhouse. How often he forgot that even in the day, space made itself known with its most precious celestial body. Or in the very least, precious to this solar system.

The balcony door slid open and Touma turned to find Seiji, warm coffee cup in hand. He shuffled outside in a robe. Touma worriedly rose, but Seiji stopped him.

"I'm not cold."

"It's winter-"

"The sun will keep me warm."

Touma relented, and Seiji took the chair next to him. 

"This is funny."

"What is?"

"You're not out here often. At least, never in the day."

"I'm out all day, and plus," Touma shrugged, "I never really felt like it was my space."

Seiji shook his head and leaned back, grinning. "That's silly."

He closed his eyes and arched his head skyward. It was very clear to Touma that Seiji had quietly entered some meditative state. He often found his friend in this peaceful mode and would usually continue on without too much gawking. But out here, on this morning, he felt himself freely staring at this restful face that glowed beneath the rising sun.

You would never know this young man was sick. He was full of such strength and curiosity for the world. He liked to travel, to study, to build worlds in novels. He loved his country and its history. He loved his friends and family fiercely. He never said such things aloud, but he was rather a man of action. Even now, this act of meditation was a defiant statement - a peaceful protest against the pain and suffering that threatened to get in his way.

Through everything - through the battles with Arago and Shikaisen and beyond - he continued to exude beautiful grace.

Seiji gently opened his eyes and turned to Touma, unfazed that his friend had been staring. "Everything okay? Tired?"

Touma twitched with embarrassment and stood up. "Yeah. Actually, I forgot to show you last night..."

He went inside briefly and reappeared holding the green scarf Seiji had loaned him.

"Brought it back."

"Wow, so you didn't leave it in a cab?"

Touma smirked. "No, no way in hell. I would've frozen to death without it." 

He tried to lay it around Seiji's neck, but Seiji refused. 

"No, keep it for a while," he pushed it back towards Touma. "For your commute."

Touma sat down, utterly confused, holding out the scarf.

"And, you know, to thank you."

Seiji sipped his coffee and looked out over Tokyo. 

"For?"

"For going out there for me."

Touma didn't know what Seiji meant by that, by "there" - there being his conference, or his job, or just, there? But like when he heard that voice message earlier in the week, he got a chill. And so he wrapped the scarf around himself many times, buried his face in it, and rested in the sun with Seiji for a while.

\--

A few days later, Touma finally got around to checking his mail. Among the missed mail was an invitation from Nasuti for a party. A baby shower, to be exact.

"Did you see this?"

Touma rushed over to the couch where Seiji was reading, and shoved the card into Seiji's hands, forcing him to put down his book. 

"Read this."

"Nasuti and Kaito would be honored to have you come say hello to our newborn twins, Haruki and Koharu. Looks like it's next Sunday. Wow, Nasuti, twins? Last I heard she was only expecting a boy."

"So I had heard too, last year. Lucky for me, I'll be swamped with work, so I guess I can't make it."

Seiji frowned, "Touma. You should really go."

Touma loudly moaned and collapsed into the adjacent arm chair. 

"I don't want to."

"You've missed the last few--"

"It's hard Seiji. I barely have the time with my research. And no one really cares anyway. All they do is ask about you. It's very hard to pretend I don't see you. And..." In his pause, Seiji noticed a subtle shyness rise up from Touma.

"And?"

"And that we live together." Pause. "And, that you're sick."

What Touma had wanted to say was it was hard to even talk about Seiji to them without broadcasting in his body language and voice how much he really knew. How hard he worked for Seiji, how he came home to him everyday. How much Seiji really was there, with him, but he was not allowed to say.

"You know I wish I could go."

"Then why don't you?" Touma's voice was not kind.

The sting of this comment showed on Seiji's face.

Touma realized this quip was a mistake. Seiji had not seen anyone from the group in two years. He had spoken on the phone with them occasionally, and still wrote letters - he would send postcards when he went on research trips and book tours - but had always found a way to avoid any direct meetings with anyone. And Touma knew this was the hardest part for Seiji. 

"I'm sorry, Seiji. I didn't mean it-" Touma stuttered. "It's just really hard me to go to these get-togethers without you. Everyone thinks I have all the answers about you, why you aren't there."

"You don't have to answer for me."

"Everyone else thinks I do. And--I don't really want to be there, anyway."

"Those are our friends. How could you say that?"

"Yes, they're our friends. But I don't have time, I don't have time to socialize or care when this is going on. What if something happens?"

"I know you're scared that something will happen to me, but I can take care of myself. I've always been able to."

"This sickness is so unpredictable--"

"You know, this is the same fight we had before your trip."

"And did you know how hard that week was for me? You made me go!"

"I'm sorry if I made you go," Seiji's voice hardened with anger. "I'm sorry I wanted you to do something other than work and sit in your office."

"Going away for a week doesn't make those things stop. This is what I do. I don't force you to not write or sit by your greenhouse."

"Well that's the problem Touma! You have to live your life too. It's a lot of pressure to be -- I can't be..." Now Seiji was turning red. "I can't be all that there is to your life."

Touma didn't respond. Instead he rested his head on his elbow against the chair arm and sunk down. This worried Seiji.

"Right?"

"Too late, I guess," Touma said through a smirk, not looking at Seiji. 

"You're impossible," Seiji huffed and gathered up a stack of books. "I really have to get this third book done. I'll be in my room."

Before Touma could say another word, Seiji had very loudly closed his bedroom door. He sighed, shook his head, and shuffled through the rest of the mail, himself visibly upset.

He could not control his hand from shaking as he came across a postcard from Ryo. In Argentina, reading Seiji's book. The image of Ryo, smiling as he read over Seiji's words, overwhelmed Touma, and he stood up in a panic that could not rationally be defined. But it led him to pace around the apartment, card shaking in his hand. 

Looking across, he spotted the bookcase and darted over to it. He grabbed a random book, an art book of Renaissance paintings, and shoved it between pages. Then he pushed the book onto a bottom shelf, and decided it was time to go take a nap.

\--

That Sunday, Touma knocked on the door of Nasuti's mansion to be greeted by Kaito, Nasuti's husband.

"Touma! I'm surprised. You never RSVPed."

Touma shrugged. "I didn't think I'd make it. Had a conference. My dates were mixed up."

"Ah. Well Nasuti will be surprised. Come in."

It was odd to be invited into a place that was once his home. He had spent many years on and off here, had shared a room with Seiji, had laid out on that roof many times and spoke quietly to the stars. 

Laughter filled the house. Walking into the kitchen, everyone was surrounding the island, snacking of course. 

"Touma!" Nasuti was indeed surprised. She ran up to hug him.

Everyone turned.

"No way! Touma is here?" Shuu grabbed Touma from Nasuti into a bear hug. "Touma, my man! I haven't seen you in months!"

"Always a drop-in-surprise from the doctor," Shin jested.

Touma stuck his tongue at Shin, and turned to see Ryo across the kitchen island, eyes wide at the new visitor to the room.

"Ryo, hey," Touma nodded.

Ryo's face turned to a wide smile. "Good to see you buddy! How's the new job?"

"Good. Tough as hell. They had me taking compliance classes eight hours a day for the first two weeks."

"But now you have that pharmaceutical money," Shin whistled.

"Yeah. Pays pretty well."

"Excellent! Take us out soon?" Shuu's laughter echoed. "Or you could buy a nice sports car and we could go clubbing and pick up some girls in Roppongi!"

Touma looked down at his feet. "Sure thing Shuu, when I have the time for girls."

"No time?" Shuu slammed his hand down. "You never have time. Before you know it you'll be an old man with no wife. Who's going to clean your bedpan?"

"Thanks for looking out for me, man," Touma flicked a chip at Shuu. "I'll sooner get the car."

Nasuti pushed a slice of cake into Touma's hands. "You just missed the singing. The twins are asleep in the nursey, but I'm sure they'll make another appearance soon."

Touma gratefully accepted the cake. Then he remembered to pull an envelope from his inner coat pocket. 

"From me. Congratulations."

"You're too sweet, Touma," Nasuti kissed his cheek. "I received a card from Seiji as well. I'll have to send him a thank you card."

Touma nodded awkwardly. "That was good of him."

"Yeah," Kaito put his arm around Nasuti. "Quite a gift too. I guess being a writer sure is a cushy way to make a paycheck."

Touma gritted his teeth and nodded, "Sure is." Quite cushy.

He noted the postcard on the fridge - from last year when Seiji had traveled to California for a small book tour of the west coat of America. He took it off the fridge and read it.

_Nasuti (and Kaito) - California is by far my favorite place I have visited in America. A lot of Japanese fans live here and I am so touched by the turn out. Congratulations on the news. Sending warm thoughts for a healthy, happy family._

Touma remembered that trip. Seiji had called him from a hotel in San Francisco, when he woke up unable to move. Touma had coached him through it, and spent the rest of that week on edge. He had wanted Seiji to stop traveling, but he knew how much it meant to Seiji to be able to see the world.

"You talk to him lately?"

His train of thought was broken by Shin, who placed a hand on his shoulder.

Touma shook his head, "No." Was this convincing? "But we talk on the phone every so often."

Shin frowned. "That's odd to me. You and Seiji have always been so special, so close."

Touma found himself looking down a lot once he entered this atmosphere. He was scared of his facial expressions and what they would reveal.

"Oh, um, have we?"

Shin smirked. "Yes. Must be because you're both so smart."

"Come on. You're smart too, Shin."

"I know I am. But what you two have is something different - maybe it's the air of wisdom and grace. But you have such a connection."

"Don't be blowing anymore hot air into this asshole's head," Ryo stepped up to the two, swinging a playful punch to Touma's upper arm.

"I was just saying it's odd Touma doesn't hear from Seiji too often, since they're so close," Shin shrugged.

"Hm, yeah, that is weird. I figured if he would talk to any of us, it'd be you."

"I mean-we do talk," Touma was fighting very hard to sound distant. "But he's busy, you know? He's got that writing. I know he travels a lot. Like you, Ryo."

"Yeah. We send each other postcards. But that's it. That's all I really know of Seiji Date. And it's been so long. Have you seen him?" 

"Occasionally. But not since his birthday last year. We got a quick drink."

"How is he?" Shin perked up.

"Good, he seemed really good. He's achieving his dreams, and I think that's all that matters. Right?"

"But I mean is that all that he does?" Ryo wondered aloud. "What is he really up to? Is he all alone? He must be with someone to be so distracted."

Touma looked down. "No, there isn't anyone."

"That you know of," Ryo nudged Touma.

"Tr-true," Touma tried to laugh. "But he mostly spends time with his family, or traveling, or writing, of course."

"I feel like once he started writing, we really lost touch," Ryo mused. Shin nodded in agreement.

"It takes a lot of dedication to be a successful writer," said Touma. 

"They're quite impressive novels, aren't they though?" Shin replied. "The level of historic accuracy alone must take up so much time."

"I bet they are," Ryo sighed, "but to be honest, I've been so busy. I think I've tried starting the first book about a dozen times."

"That's a shame. I think I've read the first two a few times already," Shin laughed.

_He would be so touched to hear that, Shin._

"I'm just waiting for the next one, " Shin continued. "The second book really leaves you wanting more."

"I'm trying, really," Ryo's face contorted. "I just need to be in the mind set. Beautiful words, but not light reading."

Touma really had no response. He too had read the books a number of times. He was almost required to know them by heart because Seiji would ask him for so much feedback. And he already knew most of the new book coming, as well. He practically pre-edited the damn thing before Seiji even finished sending it to his own editor. Thinking of this connection, and how hard Seiji really works on his writing, made Touma feel happy, and he had to fight a grin from creeping on his face.

But Ryo had not, as Touma pictured, spent a leisurely sunny afternoon on some balcony in Buenos Ares, intimately connecting to Seiji's words.

And somehow, this lightened Touma's mood, and he spent the rest of the evening catching up with everyone, and meeting Nasuti's beautiful twins. He took a photo on a small disposable camera, because he had promised Seiji he would get a photo, somehow.

Then he retired home early, happy to say that tomorrow was a workday, and he needed to get to bed at a reasonable time.

\--

"Tadaima."

Touma arrived back at the apartment early evening. As he shook off his shoes, he didn't make much thought of the fact that all of the lights were on, and the radio was playing, but Seiji was not in sight. As he approached the couch, he saw a mess of papers and pens scattered on the floor.

An electric bolt sensation sank his heart, and he ran around the couch to the hallway, where he found Seiji sprawled across the floor. 

No.

"Seiji!" 

Touma dropped to his knees and began checking Seiji's vitals - his pulse was barely there, he was ghostly pale, and his breathing was low and sporadic. Touma gathered him up immediately and kicked the bedroom door open.

Next to the table was a series of emergency saline and medications that were to be taken in the event of such a serious attack. He laid Seiji down on the bed, quickly pulled off his coat, and methodically began administering medication and tests. Seiji lay there, his eyes softly closed, but his body convulsed every so often. 

These were the kind of moments that Touma envisioned happening every day as he left the apartment, and they kept him from leaving, save only when necessary. And these attacks, which were once not often, were becoming more frequent. It had happened, just as he said it would. He just had to be right.

And this was the one time he didn't want to be right in a fight with Seiji. He was terrified of being right anymore.

But for the most part, his brain blacked out, and he pushed off his fears to give his full attention to Seiji.

Forty minutes later, he had stabilized Seiji, who had quickly fallen asleep when Touma laid him into bed. Touma collected himself, and leaned over Seiji, staring intently at his breathing, which had returned to normal. Color was returning to his face. He placed his thumb to Seiji's wrist - his skin was so cold - but a healthy pulse was there. 

Usually after these instances, once he felt his friend was safe, he would go to his room, his office, and write about the event, then toss around for the rest of the night. But the memory of walking in on Seiji helpless had him traumatized. He would not be able to leave the room, not tonight.

He turned off the light, grabbed the coat he had tossed aside and bunched it up on the floor to use as a pillow. In the silence of the room, he focused on Seiji's breathing, and the sound of each inhale and exhale allowed him to pass into a some kind peaceful sleep.

\--

When Seiji woke up the next morning, he turned to find Touma passed out on his bedroom floor.

Everything came rushing back to him - the light-headed sensation he began to feel as he was writing, standing up but tripping as he panicked, the sorrowful tone of Touma's voice as he called his name. 

He remembered that as terror rose through his body, his thoughts flooded of Touma, and how if Touma were there, he would know what to do. He had never felt fear like this, and he needed Touma that moment to save him.

He gazed down at his friend, still in his clothes from last night, his hair messy. He was sleeping on his jacket. On the nightstand was a scene of ripped open syringes and towels and notepads. 

This view he looked upon now made him feel better, safe. Last night's dread had drifted miles away. Touma had stayed close by Seiji to make sure of that.

Quietly, he got out of bed to throw a blanket over Touma, but then he realized: it was Monday.

Seiji bent down and softly shook Touma. He whispered his name, scared to actually wake him up.

"Touma..."

Touma's eyes fluttered open. Seiji was above him. 

"Touma. I don't want to wake you--but don't you have work?"

Touma grunted and turned away, closing his eyes for more sleep. 

"I'll take a sick day. Need to take care of you first."

"Are you sure? You don't have to--"

"No way I'm going in after last night."

Seiji felt himself growing warm. He began to reach his hand out, perhaps to lay a hand on Touma's head.

"But first--" Touma stretched. "More sleep."

Seiji smiled. "Sure. Thank you, about last night--"

But Touma was already back asleep. Seiji draped the blanket over him, but remained sitting on the floor next to his sleeping friend.

The argument last week. Last night's event was Touma's worst fear, and it had happened, just as he said it would. And yet he responded so swiftly, had pushed past that fear to calmly and coolly address the emergency in front of him. 

Seiji almost felt himself shiver as he recalled the sensation of Touma lifting him, his hands tracing around him with precision as he navigated the moment with such clarity. He must have run over the scenario so many times in his head before. 

_This is all he thinks about. This really is his world, and nothing can stop that._

He reached his hand out to brush the bangs from Touma's eyes, and hesitantly began to stroke his hair. As his fingers pushed through waves of blue, he had the peculiar sensation of feeling everything at once - the way his life was bending because of this illness, and how it had navigated him to find that this was his world, too.


	6. Chapter 6

Seiji had convinced Touma that the attack was a singular event. Yet Touma continued to remain on edge, and watched Seiji hawkishly whenever he was home.

Touma had thought his constant presence would annoy Seiji, as it had before the trip, but to his surprise he found Seiji very calm about the situation. It almost felt like Seiji welcomed it. He had been much warmer to Touma, in general, since that night.

The energy of the apartment felt warmer.

Their days became normal. He would come home from work each day to find Seiji at the dining room table, facing the door, with tea prepared for both of them. Sometimes Touma would sit and talk with Seiji, like old times, about books and current events and playful, lofty hypotheticals. Other times, he would be too tired, much more tired than Seiji, and pass out on the couch, the evening news on blasting away on the TV.

On one such evening, Seiji was on the phone giving an interview, when he began having an intense coughing fit and collapsed. The crashing sound brought Touma straight to his feet, and racing to Seiji's side.

Touma grabbed the receiver and sternly spoke into it. "I'm sorry, but Mr. Koujiro needs to go for now. Please call back tomorrow and we will continue your interview."

Touma helped Seiji to his bedroom, and like deja vu, was performing tests and checking vitals. And again, Touma slept on the floor, next to Seiji's bed.

After that occurrence, and several more, Touma made the executive decision that he was going to move his bed into Seiji's room. He couldn't risk being in a different room, should anything happen in the night.

Seiji didn't even put up a fight. He just nodded and understood, and asked that he get the side of the room with the window.

No longer on the floor, Touma's bed was pushed against the opposite wall, where at night he could look out and see both Seiji and the stars above Tokyo.

A view of not two, but three homes.

\--

Weeks after moving in with Seiji, Touma had received a call from his father, Genichirou to let him know he was available for lunch that week.

Touma had not lived with Genichirou since he was fifteen, and since then, their meetings had been few and far between. Genichirou was always too busy with his own research, and it was painfully obvious to Touma that he treated these get togethers as a to-do item on a checklist.

And he knew how much it would upset his father that he had moved on from astronomy.

So on his day off from class, he told Seiji he had to go study at the university library, and met his father for lunch in Kyoto.

He was twenty minutes late, and his father was already there, drumming his fingers on the table. He stood to greet Touma.

"I forgot astronomers don't use watches - they use the sun," he laughed.

Touma grunted as they both sat down. "Then that means you were early."

"Not everyone uses the same clock as you," Genichirou quickly retorted.

They both sat. "Did you drag me down here on my day off to rag on me? What do ya want from me?"

Genichirou laughed again. Touma hated this, because it was his father's way of dominating any conversation. Or downplaying Touma's feelings.

"Do you think I'm trying to sell you something? This isn't some stuffy meeting. I'm trying to buy you lunch."

Touma shrugged and looked over the menu, his eyes facing downward as much as possible. Distance would hopefully prevent him from having to explain anything, at all, to his father. But it was hard not to eye him, not after having not seen him for so long.

His father looked haggard, with a loosened tie and unkempt dress coat. But somehow, he also looked good, happy, healthy. He always managed to look overworked and glowing all at once.

"I know I look like shit," Genichirou grinned. "But so do you."

Touma scrunched his face. "Thanks. Maybe I don't care how I look."

"It's not your clothes I'm talking about."

A waitress came by to bring water and take orders as an awkward air grew stagnant between the two.

"Your whole face, Touma," Genichirou stuck his hand out. Touma craned his head to avoid being touched. "It's thinner. Your eyes. You need a haircut."

Touma shrugged. "I'll get to it."

"I thought I worked hard. You need to cool it at the lab. Maybe take a vacation."

"Right, sure. When you do it, so will I."

"I don't even want to picture your place right now. Probably a dump."

"Yup."

Genichirou stroked his goatee and eyed Touma.

"How about I come over? I'll cut your hair. I'll even buy you groceries."

The waitress sailed by to drop off their food, quick to let them have their privacy again.

"I'm good Dad, really," Strangely, Touma did not immediately begin shoveling his food into his mouth. "I don't really trust you with my hair, either."

"Well, I need to come by anyway," Genichirou replied, as he calmly unfolded a napkin across his lap. "I need a place to sleep."

Touma gritted his teeth. "Don't you usually sleep on your office?"

"Technically, yes, but," Genichirou spoke as he took large bites. "I'm off the clock for the next two days. Figured I'd spend time with you. Come on, we can break out the telescope. It'll be like old times."

"We haven't done that in about ten years."

"We'll start up again."

"Maybe another time."

Touma ended the exchange by looking down and eating. Genichirou shook his head, and let out a very vocal sigh. But Touma refused to indulge a response.

They ate the rest of their meal in relative silence, aside from a few pleasantries about work, current events, and the weather. Outside, they said their reserved goodbyes, a handshake and a promise to do this again soon.

\--

Touma was relieved the lunch was as short as it was. He would be able to get home at a decent hour and maybe have some time to himself before class the next day.

He was looking over cakes at a giftshop in Kyoto station when he felt a hand fall dramatically on his shoulder. He heard Genchirou's voice before he turned to meet his gaze.

"Where ya off to?"

"Dad-"

"I thought you were busy."

"And I thought you were staying in Kyoto."

"Well, after my plans fell through, I figured I'd head back to Osaka. The house plants could use some watering. So what's your story?"

Touma's eyes darted in every which direction, his mouth hanging open. He could see his father sensing his panic, and had lost all patience with him.

"You're hiding something."

"I-"

"You may as well tell me now."

Touma straightened his face. He would have to conquer this moment with as much confidence as he could hold.

"I'm heading to Tokyo."

"Tokyo. What's in Tokyo? Conference?"

"No-"

"You have a date?"

Touma drew in a loud sigh, and saw Genichiro brace himself, as if he were already expecting Touma to say something stupid.

"I... I'm... going to school, in Tokyo."

Confusion grew on Genichirou's face - and not because he was curious for more information. Touma was very familiar with his father's facial expressions, as they always seemed to communicate better than his own words. And he always knew this as a look of anger and judgement hidden by a mask of genuine curiosity.

"You're...at school. Is this for your doctorate? Astrophysics? Finally-"

"No," Touma felt himself shaking lightly, but he looked into Genichirou's eyes. He had to remain confident. "Medical school."

He would never forget the way his father's face then contorted. The first of many arrows to weaken his defense.

"I know what you're thinking. Bit of a career change. But I assure you, it's very interesting to me. Bio physiology. It's an accelerated, intensive program, so I should be done in about two years-"

"And you're doing all of this? Working at the lab? While in Kyoto?"

"I'm...not at the lab anymore. At all. I live in Tokyo," Pause. "Full time."

Suddenly it felt like Genichirou was growing in size, standing taller and taller, towering above Touma like a guillotine.

"This is a joke, right? How much time and money did you put into school for astronomy?" He wasn't interested in waiting for a response from Touma. "Medical school? Since when has anything - anything naturally occurring on this planet - been of interest to you? I don't believe it for a second. Or that you have any reason for me to believe this garbage."

"I am. I'm there," Touma flipped open his wallet and pulled out his student ID. "Maybe I do care, maybe its of interest to me. Maybe I have a good reason."

"And that is?"

Upon being asked, Touma took a minute to reflect. Looking down, he realized how little skill he had in articulating himself, in using words. How he partly dreaded explaining himself because he had no way to justly describe these major life decisions. He just felt a hazy blur of images, of the sensation of Seiji's weak grasp, of coming to Seiji's home to find him unabe to move. These were reason enough.

"Because I can. Because I am smart, and it's what I want to do, and I don't need any real reason. And that's just what you need to get from any of this."

"Can you at least tell me where you've been, then? For how long?"

Genichirou's tone had shifted to an air of sadness that burrowed its way into Touma's ears.

"I've been living in Minato with Seiji. I started school at Tokyo Medical in June."

"Seiji?" The confusion in Genichirou's voice took Touma aback.

"Yes, he's an author now. And he's been very supportive of my decision. Because he's a good friend. A dear friend." This would be the closest Touma could get to explaining any truth to his father, however rose-tinted.

But Genichirou looked defeated. He seemed to have heard quite enough. And in his father's body language, Touma found himself shrinking, shrinking to a small boy on the carpet of his childhood home, looking up at a lanky, tall man who always seemed to stand, rather than kneel.

"This is not the Touma I know. Making stupid decisions and not thinking things through. You had a good job."

All Touma could do was shake his head and avoid any further eye contact. He no longer wanted to be here.

"There is nothing that could convince me this is remotely a smart idea. My son threw his future away, and didn't even tell me. I thought I knew you better, Touma." 

Touma could feel it coming, an anxiety attack. Something he had not experienced in years. Not since living with his father so long ago. He had to protect himself. He needed to run before the panic set in. He turned his back to Genichirou and began walking quickly.

But he heard Genichirou's voice boom through the crowd. "Touma."

Touma spun around, his face flustered and his eyebrows narrowed.

Genichirou looked Touma up and down. His face had softened and his mouth had changed from its usual stiff grin to a melted frown. A hurt not often found on his father's face, but often enough for two decades worth of memories to make Touma's heart race.

"I can't, Dad-"

Genichirou shook his head. "It's fine. Thanks for having lunch with me." He drew a large breath. "Good luck in med school."

And with that, his father softly turned and walked the opposite way.

A sensation washed over Touma. He felt as though his mind and body were violently separating. The swarming of fears and failure and loneliness blanketed over him. He desperately wanted to run away. He paced nervously around the station, rattled by both what had happened and by the anxiety he had not felt in so long. A state of being he had never wanted to feel again, had successfully avoided for so long. He would do anything to never experience it again.

Somehow, that day felt like months ago, not two years. Touma heard very little from his father. He only had snapshots of information from talking to his mother, who thankfully accepted Touma's life change gracefully. Upon hearing the news, she had come to visit both Seiji and Touma for a week, and by the end was calling Seiji her second son.

But he heard from her, more than saw her.

And his father, he saw more of him in his head, than heard from him.

\--

Touma had passed out on the couch. Seiji sat on the adjacement love seat, highlighting pages in a historical book to use for research on his story.

He looked out over Touma, who lay flat with his arms crossed and his hands stuffed under his armpits. His head was turned away out of view, lightly snoring. His briefcase of notes sat nearby on the floor.

The phone rang, cutting through the silence. Touma didn't even remotely stir.

Seiji walked over to the phone and picked up. "Good evening. Seiji speaking."

"Is Touma there?" The suddenness of Genichirou's voice was jarring.

"He's...Touma's sleeping."

"Well, can you wake him up?" 

Seiji had always heard about the infamous charm of Touma's father, or lack thereof. He had a way with being direct, just like Touma. But unlike Touma, he seemed to be even more distant, more unfeeling.

"I don't think I can do that. He's had a long day. Can I give him a message?"

He could hear an aggravated sigh on the other side.

"Just tell him his father is in Tokyo for the next few days. I'll call tomorrow." Pause. "But make sure he stays up."

"Will do."

"Thanks."

The phone clicked, and the reality of this brief conversation sunk in. Touma would not be happy. If there was one thing Seiji knew from being friends with Touma for so long, it was that he was on very strained terms with his parents, especially his father.

Which was strange, because from what Seiji could remember, Touma lived with his father growing up and it was his mother who was most absent. But perhaps both were absent, in their own ways.

But even though Touma had never really given Seiji the in-between, nuanced details, he knew. As a best friend and even as a writer, he always knew. He knew Touma's parents were physically and emotionally distant, and that they treated him more like an acquaintance than a son. He knew Touma had no one since a young age. Seiji had his parents, his grandfather, his sisters. Touma had no one.

Seiji's thoughts were interrupted at the sound of Touma yawning.

"Did I hear the phone ring?" Touma stretched, sitting up and turning to look at Seiji.

Seiji was surprised to look at Touma's freshly wakened face and see it so young, so bright. A child, as he sometimes saw Touma.

"Yeah," Seiji nodded, and spoke softly. "Your, um, father called."

And then Seiji saw the color of Touma's face dissolve. "He did? That's nice."

Seiji awkwardly shuffled around the couch. He sat down and Touma looked down into his lap.

"He wanted me to tell you he's in Tokyo for the next few days."

"Oh."

"And that he'd called again tomorrow."

Touma let out a mocking chuckle. "He thinks. If he calls again, just hang up."

"You don't want to see him?"

"Not particularly, no."

Seiji knew this was an act. He knew Touma didn't care, but cared. He couldn't make Touma care, but he couldn't pretend he didn't.

"I know you two haven't always been close but I feel like I always remember you talking. You're avoiding him."

Touma gave an exaggerated shrug.

"Touma, I'm asking honestly. Why? What's happening?"

Lately Seiji had made it a point to reach out to Touma the way Touma had to him. And in pressing him, Touma could sense Seiji genuinely cared.

"I never told you this but," Touma's voice softened. On the rare occasions Touma was open about anything, he seemed to revert into a shy, childlike state. "I haven't really spoken to him for a few years. The last time we even saw each other was when I told him about this. About switching careers. Moving here."

Seiji just stared at Touma, who wasn't looking back.

"So I guess you can say it isn't what's happening. Because there is no happening. There isn't anything, really. He just doesn't support me, and I could care less."

A child, is how Seiji often saw Touma. A child alone, on an island, writing letters to nowhere.

"Touma, I don't know what to say-"

"There's nothing to be said. I'm an adult, I made my decision. And I don't regret it for a second."

A wave of emotion came over Seij as he looked upon Touma's sad grin. The quiet, resolute sacrifices. The lost relationships, the lost youth. The time poured over books and exams and labs, and the extra time spent sleeping. All this time, all of it, for his illness. He shivered as he recalled Touma's father's voice on the phone moments ago, and Touma's flushed face now before him. A guilty feeling weighed on his heart.

This next moment would historically remain a textureless blur to Seiji years later.

From what he remembers, Seiji meant to pull Touma into a hug. He meant to show he understood and cared for his friend the way his friend had always, always cared for him. But instead he found himself pulling Touma close to his face, wanting suddenly to breathe deep into this friend's soul a message that he appreciated him, that he was thankful, that he was loved.

Suddenly they were so close that Seiji could feel Touma's lashes brush against his cheeks.

And Touma had never, for as long as he could remember, ever felt the sensation of losing control, of not being aware. But whatever foundation supported his stubborn, heavy thoughts had capsized, and he felt his whole body dissociate. Seiji had kissed him, was kissing him.

He would never forget the temperature of Seiji's hands as they rested on his arms. The time of night. The month, the day. The view from the couch when he looked beyond Seiji and gazed out in disbelief.

At the age of 22, this was Touma's first kiss.


	7. Chapter 7

Touma had almost kissed other people before. He had gone on an innocent date with a classmate when he was 13. She had written him a love note, and they held hands. And there was that time he asked a coworker at the astronomy lab out but it went nowhere. Just an awkward dinner and a hug goodnight. Plenty of others had asked him out as an undergrad, but somehow he always found his time more occupied by his studies.

He had never felt his mouth move this way before. Up and down and sideways. A rhythmic air passed from Seiji's mouth to his, as they bobbed back and forth, shifting their positions on the couch. His entire body pulsed with nervousness and excitement.

He thought once or twice if he should pause and stop what was happening, to say something, anything to figure out why Seiji was doing this. But he was terrified to do anything to end this moment. He felt too good, too elevated. Seiji would not kiss him if he did not want to.

Instead he dared to rest his hand on Seiji's back, and gently run his fingertips over Seiji's clothes. He felt himself boldly trying to say, in wordless gesture, that he had waited for this moment for years. He had just not known this much, until now.

Seiji reacted by looping his hand into Touma's, and kissing him harder. Surprised, Touma kissed back with equal force.

He refused to pause for air, in the event that this should end at any second. He would not let this stop.

\--

That night Touma had a vivid, almost lucid dream. Except always in his dreams, he was moving in slow motion, while everything else seemed to move at their regular pace.

He was in Tenkuu, floating in space. It was during the first war, and he had watched Ryo pass him by and drift off. A red bubble, which disappeared in the distance and soon became a tiny dot. The distinct sensation of feeling alone.

He drifted off as well. For years. The war continued and ended without him. He drifted above Russia, and Europe, and Africa. Until one day he was above North America. Looking down, the night had smoothed over into day, and through the clouds he lowered himself. He could hear them, Seiji's screams. He was crying.

The screams ripped through his tiredness, and he violently tried to push the bubble. He pushed and pulled it until he was suddenly in a cavernous den, where Seiji's cries were more prominent. He then saw it, that hated image: Seiji hanging from that five pointed star, being repeatedly shocked. He dreamt of it often, as if they had never really found or rescued Seiji.

But his body was slow, so god-damn slow, and no matter how hard he pushed, he could not get close.

And as he fought to move, a flash of red jumped before him, and let Seiji loose. As he hovered above, he saw Ryo, and he was holding a weak Seiji.

He called Seiji's name, but no one turned to look at him. He cried as the bubble began to suddenly float upward, and back into the sky, where it was once again night. But it was just blackness, and there were no stars, save for the low blue glow of his bubble cocoon.

\--

Touma found himself in a trance the next day. In a meeting, he looked down into his notes. His pen drew circles and stars and 3D boxes. He wrote the kanji of grace, and scibbled it out. He made a grocery list. He remembered a time when he could barely eat. When he was at war.

He remembered a darkened Tokyo alleyway, a Shinjuku without flashing lights or ads or sound. The last thing he had eaten before he left for Tokyo from Kyoto was his mother's curry, with fried pork, and a pint of ice cream. Hours later, he had experienced the most intense physical moments of his life. No training had prepared him for this. And the after shocks of this new trauma caused him to throw it all up. All that wasted food.

After that first battle, he stood outside for some fresh air. And because down in the subway station below, the six other people he had just met were just too new, too overwhelming.

So above ground, in that darkened alleyway where bits of newspaper and debris and litter rustled by, he wondered how hard this would be. If they could all get along. If they would find his intelligence off putting or important. What their families were like. Did their mothers make them dinner too?

And then he saw in the corner of his eye, that one guy. The blonde haired, quiet one. Leaning against a column, eyes closed. Touma thought he was the only person who needed this, this private space. They hadn't talked much. It has only been a day. But he talked less than the rest. That calm coolness, it soothed him.

From this man's hair and his bright green subarmor, he seemed to light up this particular section of the alley. And being the reasonable person he was, Touma just didn't understand. He didn't believe a human could light up a space like this. It was an illusion that could be explained by natural phenomenon.

Touma's inkling was to research the mystery. He walked up to the man he would come to know as Seiji.

\--

Seiji did not draw on notes, but instead sat by the dining room table with his manager, Ikuko. They were looking over the layout and art for Seiji's third book. With his completed manuscript, and a few art prints, placed across the table, Seiji couldn't help but smile. His work still made him proud.

"Sales are projected to be the highest of any of your releases," Ikuko grinned. "Of any of my clients' Fall releases."

"That must make the publisher happy," Seiji replied.

"The entire industry is happy!" Ikuko boomed. "Book stores, the publisher--hell, the press! Speaking of which, my mail box is flooded with requests for book signings."

"Ikuko..."

Seiji had explained to Ikuko, soon after his second book release, that he would have to, much to his absolute unhappiness, limit travel. He still did book tours and signings and talks in Japan, and mainland Asia, but even that he was being more selective about.

"I know," Ikuko sighed. "But, hear me out. I have something that may be of interest to you. Please, have a seat."

They sat across from each other at the dining room table. Beyond his view of Ikuko, Seiji locked his eyes on the couch. He had barely left it out of his sight all morning.

"I received a letter for an exciting opportunity," Ikuko began. "From Oxford University, right outside of London."

"Book signings?" Seiji did not want to get his hopes up. How could he travel that far for just a book signing? What would Touma say?

Why did he care what Touma said?

"No, no," Ikuko was grinning. "You've been invited by the university to give a lecture. To their graduate students. They want to get the Eastern perspective on historical literature. They are inviting you for a weekend of talks. In fact, you would be the speaker of honor, along with a select other number of Asian writers. Of course, we can schedule a few book signings. Your European fans have never seen you, you know."

Seiji couldn't help but show that this opportunity really excited him. "I can't believe it."

"Your hard work has paid off. You're a real talent, Seiji," Ikuko replied. "So I can go ahead and start making arrangements with the university? We can plan out signings--"

"I'm not sure yet," Seiji said in an almost-murmur. "I first need to check with Touma."

"I'm sorry," Ikuko said with a confused voice. "Why do you need to check with Touma?"

"He's been..." Seiji trailed off. The couch, it was so hard to look at in this moment.

"Seiji? This is the opportunity of your career. One of many, if we attend this."

"Yes, I know. I want to go." Another pause. "Would it be possible for Touma to come, too? He's been... well, my caretaker. You could say. It'll drive him crazy if I'm gone and he can't watch me. If you understand."

Ikuko nodded solemnly. Seiji had confided in him, over the years, the details of his illness. This was a confidential understanding. "Yes, of course. We have a huge budget for your travel. You barely use it at all. How about this... You talk with Touma, and see how you want this trip to be mapped out. We will center it on Oxford. And he can come."

"Ikuko, you have been so kind and understanding of everything. Thank you for this."

"Seiji, no," Ikuko replied. "Thank you for bringing your story to this world. It has touched so many, and I've been honored to be involved in sharing your voice."

Seiji smiled, but did not respond. Often times, Ikuko and others would say these things but he wondered why he was so lucky to have this opportunity, if he was worthy. He often felt scared that he had traded his armor for this.

Ikuko broke the silence. "Should we decide on your next cover?"

"Yes," Seiji said. "I'll make us tea."

Ikuko took a moment to go out on the balcony and smoke. Seiji put the tea kettle on. Circling the couch, it was as if he made it a point to be nowhere near it, so he may have a moment to collect his thoughts on last night, and even, maybe, savor that memory.

Sitting down slowly, it all came back to him. What he had done. They had kissed each other for hours, pushing back and forth between luller moments and energetic assults of hands and mouth and arms and legs. Nothing else had happened. Touma had fallen asleep, and Seiji left a blanket on him, going to bed by himself.

His mouth hurt, actually.

He had not kissed someone like that in years. His first kiss had been a funny fling in high school. Deeper, more emotional kisses had followed in college, along with other things. But even those connections were cast under the shadow of a complicated sense of self, of romance, he had carried with him since being a committed soldier.

There was that obvious thought in the back of Seiji's mind, the one that told him to keep Touma at bay. He wasn't dense, he knew. Even more so, as time went on as they lived together, he was aware that Touma was more controlled by emotion than reason. But Touma would never vocalize that.

Seiji often thought about the first time he met Touma, and why they had stuck together the way they did. Seiji was of the belief that the troopers, that all humans, had a pre-determined course for their life. Sometimes it felt like Touma, in all his reasonable tactics, had found a way to make sure he was part of Seiji's course.

And strangely, there was something exciting about a person who could alter something as cosmic as one's fate.

\--

Touma delicately traced his fingers over boxes of crackers and chips, fresh green vegetables, breads, rice, fish. He spent a good forty minutes in the market. The act of bagging his groceries felt like a precious act. He was carrying them with new emotions.

Pressing the elevator button in his apartment building, it was the slowest ride. It was like he tortured himself on purpose, consciously slowing the moments that lead to the turn of the key, the push of the door.

"Tadaima."

The rustle of bags summoned Seiji from his room. "Okaeri." He took a moment to show Touma his surprise. "You went shopping?"

Touma nodded. "Yes. Got food for the week, thought we could try to cook more. It's better for you."

Touma wrapped around into the kitchen, speaking unusually fast.

"I mean, not that we shouldn't go out for food anymore, but we have this kitchen. I bought miso. I've been craving soup. My mother used to make miso. When I saw her."

"Is that so?" Seij was amused at Touma's franticness.

"She would make it in the winter. You know, we should really find time to head to Yoyogi when the blossoms--"

"Well, my birthday is soon." Seiji turned the corner, leaning against the counter. They made eye contact for a moment. At the mention of birthday, Touma blushed and looked down, continuing to grab groceries.

"You're right. I'll have to call mom then, I guess," Touma chuckled. "Why make soup, when she can do it for us?"

"I can make it."

Touma stuttered. "You don't have to--"

"I want to," Seiji was fighting not to grin. As he saw Touma's hands fight to dig in the bag and not make eye contact, he himself could not stop the grin from growing more animated.

"Touma," Seiji said bemusedly. "Everything okay?"

Touma looked up at Seiji, and whispered. "I...don't know. It's Friday--"

Seiji put his hand to his mouth to try and hide his laughter. As their eyes met, Touma did not think he was socially inept enough to navigate this moment, if it were a moment, if there was a right way to make the events of last night continue.

So his nervous mind forced his body to cross that line he was scared to ever cross himself. He stepped up to Seiji, their noses bumping, and he turned Seiji's mouth to meet his.

The kiss did not last as long this time. But for a few seconds, it was a microcosm of the first, more tender and thoughtful, a more well constructed sentence. Touma and Seiji's faces floated inches away from each other, their breath close enough to bounce.

"Seiji, last night--"

"Let's go out."

"What?"

"Get your shoes on."

Touma noticed something deeper occurring in the irises of Seiji's eyes. They were different, even as he knew him as a young teenager to the man he was now. Something was shifting in those eyes. Touma nodded, dumbfounded.

Seiji spun around and headed towards his room to change. As Touma waited for Seiji to return, he put the groceries away. There was a bounce to Seiji's step. He had never seen a person do that before because of him.


	8. Chapter 8

Touma and Seiji never went out anymore, at least in the evening, and especially not on a Friday or Saturday. Those nights were meant for regular people in the world, like those they had once saved. 

After some walking around the immediate neighborhood, they decided to take the JR line to Shibuya. Emerging from the station, crowds of young and old washed over the streets as flashing advertisements illuminated the night. Groups of teenagers weaved in and out of arcades while those still in their business attire ate by themselves in food stalls.

Seiji walked slightly ahead of Touma, scanning buildings. He seemed to be looking for something. Touma fell behind a few times as he took in the scenes around him; a bar crowd spilling out into the street, a punk band playing in an alleyway venue. A group of three women made eye contact with him, giggling and blushing at his hair. 

He quickly turned his gaze and fixated instead on the back of Seiji’s head. He observed as Seiji softly turned his neck in different directions, reading the signs of the buildings. They walked past a large, two-story advertisement. In the white light of the screen, Seiji seemed to glow brightest against the crowd. 

Being mid-March, there was still a chill in the air. Seiji was dressed in a black turtle neck and bulky cardigan sweater, both which spilled out from an oversized, dark green trench coat. He was always so conscience of style, so aware of his appearance, even when he was inside all day in a house robe and slippers. Touma, meanwhile, was wearing a thrifted coat from years ago, over a slightly newer jean jacket his mom had given him last Christmas. 

For a moment he thought that was his last new piece of clothing, but then he remembered. His hands traced upwards, from his pockets to his neck, where he felt the oversized emerald scarf Seiji had given him a month ago, when he had come home from his trip. He felt the scary sensation of his chest pulsing as his heart tried to convince him what this all meant.

Touma gripped the scarf and shook his head. There is no reason for any of it. It was all a coincidence.

\--

Seiji finally stopped in front of a storefront, and nodded at a set of stairs. They walked up and, to Touma’s complete shock, into an intimate, modern looking restaurant with low lighting and blue walls. 

"I feel underdressed," Touma mumbled.

"There's no dress code," Seiji smirked.

They were seated at a small table in the midst of many other small tables, all groups of two. Everyone looked like they were on a date. Noting this, Touma felt himself withdrawing into a state of nervousness, like as if he were meeting Seiji for the first time.

"How… did you find out about this place?" 

"I read a lot of magazines in my spare time," Seiji said, his eyes scanning a bar menu. He looked so peaceful, perhaps from the joy of just sitting in a public place, as a human, a regular man. Not a sick, former solider. 

He just casually looked over the menu, as if they had not been two old friends who just kissed, twice. 

Touma was too distracted to focus on what to order, so Seiji ordered for them: beers, and many, many kinds of gyoza, the restaurant's popular specialty. At the first bite, Touma's face lit up, and soon he was relaxing his shoulders, and actually looking at Seiji while they talked.

They ordered plate after plate, with no signs of Touma stopping. Once a plate was finished, he'd order another. 

"I haven't had gyoza that wasn't from our freezer in so long," Touma sighed.

Seiji sat straight against his chair, sipping his drink. "Thanks for coming with me."

"Are you kidding me? Who else would I go--" Touma paused, and looked around nonchalantly, "who else would I go with, right?"

"No one from work?"

Touma shook his head. "The people at the lab, they're…okay, but I don't think we would make good friends."

Seiji grinned, “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Touma smirked in response.

But it did occur to Seiji that he had never really asked Touma about his day. What the time was like, the atmosphere. The people. The lab itself. What did he see? How did it smell? He had only really gotten impressions. And Touma was surprised Seiji really wanted to know.

Seiji learned Touma spent most of the day standing, testing chemicals and other ingredients in medicine. He never took proper lunch breaks, except for a strangely ritualistic ten minutes where he would run downstairs and buy an afternoon milkshake. 

"You probably shouldn't drink milkshakes every day," Seiji was practically crying from laughing.

"Yeah. I suppose you're right. But I guess it's just something to look forward to, to break up the day." 

"Is it much different? Working in a pharmaceutical lab?"

"Oh yeah, a lot different. For one, it's disgustingly regulated. I can't even go to the bathroom without documenting it."

Seiji burst out laughing again, and Touma lightly laughed as well.

"It's funny and sad," Touma's chuckles settled. "At the observatory, I got to look at meteorites, moon rocks, dust from Mars. They just wanted to know what I saw. At the new lab... they just need results, and fast. It's all about money."

"You could still go back," Seiji said, knowing this was an impossible suggestion, at least to Touma.

"I'd like to, someday," his voice trailed like he meant to continue speaking. He stared into his beer, twirling the glass in his hands. 

"You know, I think about it all the time," he broke the silence. "When I was up there.”

Seiji knew immediately what Touma meant, because he thought about it, too. 

“I try to picture myself there again, experiencing the moment. I know it's crazy because we were fighting a war, but I think about it, often."

"It's not crazy," Seiji responded. "Your armor sent you somewhere so cool. I think we were all a little jealous.”

“You know, you've never really told me it.”

Touma did not look at Seiji, and instead awkwardly picked up his fork, signaling he would rather eat. 

But Seiji persisted.

“Tell me about it.”

“Another time,” Touma took a bite of gyoza, and looked up at Seiji, forcing a smile. 

Seiji smiled back, “I understand.”

They ate in silence. Between sips of beer, Seiji caught glances of Touma, who still looked like he was fighting tension, both in his face and the way he slouched forward. He had wanted to come out to celebrate, to tell Touma about the big news he had only just learned earlier. But he was starting to feel nervous Touma wouldn’t be as happy as him about this.

"Touma, I have something to ask you..."

Seiji could sense that his phrasing scared Touma, who sat completely still.

"My manager told me today that I've been invited to speak in England, at a prestigious university. For my writing. My novels that I've built my entire life around." Seiji looked down at his hands, which he clenched and unclenched. 

"These stubborn hands did something good for me,” Seiji smiled.

Before Touma could respond, Seiji continued, half-speaking to himself. "I'm still in a daze, thinking about this. It's funny, even after all these years of work, I never allowed myself to feel proud. I haven't been good to myself, Touma. Not since this illnesss..."

Touma could no longer watch Seiji worry over his hands, and reached out, grabbing them. "Are you in pain--"

"--I was wondering if you would please come with me." 

In some kind of respectful formality, Seiji bowed his head inward, no longer able to see Touma's eyes. His hands slipped from Touma's.

"Me?"

"It's the only way I know how to honor the help and care you've given me."

"But your illness--"

"Please. Say you'll go with me. If I never go anywhere in the world again, I would be happy to know that I got to see even a small part of Europe."

The thought of Seiji never seeing anything for as long as he lived frightened Touma. He wanted Seiji to be happy. He would never, in the darkest corners of his heart, admit to the possibility that Seiji would never see the world again. But what good did it do to his body, if his mind and soul weren't free? 

"Seiji...there is nothing more I want to do," Touma said, bowing his own head slightly, "than to see your hard pay off. You deserve this."

Touma looked up again to meet Seiji's eyes. 

"I will go with you," he said, without blinking. "This illness will not ruin it for you."

\--

They staggered out of the restaurant and swam through the crowd like crisscrossing fish. Seiji insisted he had the energy to go to another bar, then another. Now that Seiji knew Touma wanted to go on this trip, his hopeful mind opened up. They talked about what they would see, what they knew of this far-off place. What would they eat. If the air was much different there.

He felt like the world was his again.

On the JR line home, there were no seats. Seiji leaned against the door, his right arm propped on Touma's shoulder. As the train shook, Seiji closed his eyes, and didn't stop himself from softly swaying into Touma.

He imagined for a moment he still had Kourin, and that he never had to abandon his family and the dojo. He pretended it was a time of peace, and he was living a normal life in Tokyo. Just a Friday night on the train with someone who wanted to be by him.

He imagined he was never ill at all.

And wondered if he were never ill, would he be on this train now with Touma.

\--

They finally arrived back at the apartment a little after three. Seiji was drunker than Touma had remember ever seeing him. Not since their old outings with the rest of the troopers. But even then, Seiji was always tasteful in his drinking. Tonight, he was sluggish and loud and giggling. 

“Snack...snack-time,” Seiji caught himself before tripping as he threw off his shoes. He didn’t even bother to hang up his coat before he turned into the kitchen and opened the fridge.

“That’s…that’s right, you went shopping Touma!”

Touma leaned on the counter, holding back a huge smirk. 

Seiji looked up. “What? What’re you looking at?”

“Just world famous author, Rin Koujiro, drunk and staring into the fridge.” 

Seiji spoke to Touma with a mouth full of grapes. “World famous and drunk. And hungry. And going to Oxford University. I need to call Ikuko--"

Touma softly walked up to Seiji, and took a grape from his hands. 

"Calm down there, Rin..."

“Those are mine.”

“Yeah, and who bought them?”

“I bought dinner.”

“I paid your train ticket.”

“I’m taking you to London.”

Their faces cracked into knowing smiles. In a quick, seamless gesture, Touma bent around Seiji and circled his arms around Seiji’s legs and shoulders, lifting him in the air. Unable to process what was happening, Seiji could only sense his feet were no longer on the ground. He was gliding through air. He couldn't help but slap Touma's shoulders and howl with laughter.

Pushing through his drunken state, Touma had to keep repeating to himself that yes, he was holding Seiji, and he was walking towards the bedroom they shared. Seiji's happy laughter gave Touma pause, and he looked down for a moment to see that Seiji was smiling in his arms. 

Fighting not to fall, Touma nudged the door open with his foot and stepped into the darkened bedroom. In four large strides he aimed for Seiji's bed, which was bathed in the light of the city and the stars. Touma outstretched his arms to place Seiji down on the bed, only to be pulled forward by Seiji’s body weight. 

As Seiji landed, he was already half asleep, and Touma sat there, looking down at Seiji's face. His heart sank as he began to realize that the features on Seiji's face were thinner, more pronounced. He had been so surprisingly light when he carried him a moment before.

 _Two years_ , he thought. _Two years and what have I done for him?_

He had been hired at the lab with a special contract assuring him he would have some money granted towards his area of research, but so far he had been made to work on large project for money-making drugs that were high priority at the lab. He had the notes, the hypotheses, he just needed the materials. He needed to go back on Monday and demand they hold up their end of the contract.

After a few moments, Touma sighed to himself and went to stand, when he heard Seiji mumble “stay.” Touma froze.

He leaned down and whispered, “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right there, in my bed.”

Seiji shook his head and traced his arm across the empty half of the bed. “No, here. Please.”

"S--Sure."

Quietly Touma took off his outer layer of clothes, his coat and dress shirt, and nervously laid down on the bed. He was stiff, unsure whether he should, if he was allowed to, make any kind of contact with Seiji, whose eyes were closed.

Touma turned towards Seiji, listening to his breathing, as he often did since moving in with him, but only from afar and across the room in his own bed. He felt awkward and nervous, not sure if a sober Seiji would wake up tomorrow to find him this close and be confused, or worse, angry. 

But Seiji inched himself against Touma, so that the side of his head and his left ear were pressed against Touma’s chest. Minutes passed in slow motion before Touma allowed himself to relax and accept that this was happening. He curled his arm around Seiji, and turned his gaze out toward the window to see a clear sky and a golden crescent moon.

He ran his hand through Seiji’s hair. He began to whisper.

“When I was up there... I remember feeling for the first time that I was special. It’s…stupid, the whole world was asleep, and we were separated, and there was a chance, at that time, that we would never see our families again. Or each other. I barely knew anyone, and so, at the time, it didn’t matter to me. But being up there, it made me feel so safe, like I didn’t have to ever worry again. I could just float across the universe and I’d never have to worry about who to make happy or who to impress. But eventually, I did come back down, and I realized how close I came to really, actually being alone forever, with no hope of ever being found. I don’t think anyone would be jealous of that…”

“Then…why do you think about it?”

Touma jolted slightly, and craned his neck to see Seiji looking up at him. 

“Seiji…I….”

“Of course we came to get you. I was so thankful Ryo saved you.” 

Seiji pressed himself against Touma. “Why, Touma…”

Touma pressed his face to Seiji’s. “I don’t know, Seiji. I just do.”

“Do you think you’re still out there?”

Touma didn’t answer, but only continued to press himself against Seiji. Seiji responded to this silence by running his hands through Touma’s hair. And then, planting kisses along Touma’s face. 

Seiji did not stop. He kissed Touma’s chin and neck and forehead, until finally their mouths met. Touma was so confused, so scared, but he hesitantly returned Seiji’s kisses. 

“Seiji—You’re drunk--“

“Touma, you can trust me.”

Seiji held Touma's face and kissed him again. Their legs and arms looped around one another like a DNA strand. Despite laying in the light of the night, Touma kept his eyes closed shut, instead sensing and feeling Seiji as he shook in his arms. He was hearing Seiji’s voice moan, as their bodies shifted more. He felt Seiji’s slim, artful hands run up his shirt and down his pants.

Their clothes were coming off in a parade. Movement was happening, and Touma could not control any of it, nor did he want to. At his most awake, he opened his eyes wide to see the image of Seiji’s face an inch from his, contorting and smiling and gasping all at once. He pulled Seiji to him, their chests meeting, and kissed his neck. Seiji repeated Touma’s name, more than he had ever heard his name before, more than ever in Seiji's voice. None of this was known to Touma. He had only ever imagined what it would be like to be this to close to someone. He had only ever dreamed this when he was as far off as space. 

He had to remind himself to not think, to stop and just listen. Eventually his thoughts drifted away, and all that he could see and think of was Seiji...Seiji. Until it all became a shining, explosive blur, and they were asleep, side by side, Touma still inside Seiji.


	9. Chapter 9

Seiji was aware that he was dreaming. 

He was looking across a great, shining lake. His hands gripped the railing of some balcony that felt deeply familiar. There was the faint sound of a bustling kitchen, echoes of laughing voices. He turned to look into an empty bedroom, littered with papers and books. He knew this room. 

Where was Touma?

Suddenly he was standing next to Shin, who was hovering above a busy stovetop. Shin turned to Seiji, and his mouth curled to say something sly. His eyes beckoned Seiji to look behind his shoulder.

When Seiji turned, Nasuti, Shuu and Ryo were there, sitting around a large dining room table. Banners and balloons, a giant cake with candles, seemed to float in the air around them. Everyone was congratulating him. Nasuti had tears in her eyes. He saw her mouth move to say “I’m so thankful…" 

Before Seiji could absorb any of this, Ryo stood and walked directly up to him, his nose almost touching his. 

Ryo ran his hand through Seiji’s hair, and as he pulled away, he looked down to find a fistful of Seiji’s hair. He looked up at Seiji, but gave no expression. Only a blank stare.

Seiji felt himself becoming self-conscious. His clothes were growing three times his size, and he could feel his bones protruding from his hips and shoulders. He furiously began rubbing his hands together for warmth. Everyone was looking at him. Ryo was still looking, but the blue in his eyes had turned black and glassy.

He quickly excused himself. With every step he took further from the kitchen, his hair fell to the floor and his throat tightened. He pushed through the doors of Nasuti’s study, frantic and terrified.

The windows were open, and a violent wind was pushing papers and debris around the room. It was in the center of the room he spotted Touma, who was slouched above a desk, mumbling some kind of incantation. With each new verse, the ground beneath Touma began to weaken and sink. It was going to capsize.

Through it all, Seiji made no words, no noise. He stood frozen with fear and confusion and only observed. 

His heart stirred when he focused to see that Touma was standing above a paper – something dense, academic – something with drawings. Touma was pale, sweating, and his voice was fighting to remain poised. And the drawings were familiar. He could make out the shape, which was similar to the helmet of Kourin…

Before Seiji could see anymore, the ground caved in and Touma was gone.

\---

The dream did not startle him awake. At some early morning hour, Seiji had softly woken to a soft throbbing in his head and a dry, sore throat. He tried to shuffle into a more comfortable position but he felt himself locked into place by arms. He felt a nose dig into the space between his shoulder blades.

Touma. Touma was holding onto him. 

Staring into the dark of the room, he replayed the events of last two nights in his head. He remembered the kiss on the couch and dinner. Touma’s promise to go with him to London. Touma carrying him. Asking Touma to stay. Taking his clothes off.

Things had just unfolded so quickly. His only response way to trust that his heart and body had guided him in the right direction. Whatever he felt within the last few days had simmered in him to the point of reality. There was a reason for all of this.

He felt warm as he remembered Touma's face. He had never seen his friend look so disconnected, so lost and free. In that moment, Seiji felt himself needing Touma, to keep Touma in that state. And he, too, had not felt that far away from himself in so long. It had been so long since he felt anything so exhilarating. Somehow, nothing about what happened bothered him. 

And that worried him.

"Touma?” He whispered. “Touma, are you awake?"

Touma stirred for a moment. After a brief silence, he gave a hushed, even nervous, "yeah."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Are you...?"

"Yeah. Just... feeling hungover."

In wave of embarrassment, Touma rolled away from Seiji and onto his back. "Shit. Shit. Seiji. Do you remember…?”

"Touma, do you really think I forgot?" Seiji smiled to himself.

But somehow, an answer from Touma never came. Seiji could hear Touma’s light snores.

Seiji slid out of bed softly and pulled a robe around himself. He found himself staring over Touma, sleeping and naked. Touma's skin was brightly white and pale, and his chest rose only slightly with each breath he took. Somehow even in sleep, Touma's brows were pushed forward and tense. Seiji ran a finger across Touma's cheek. He then felt compelled to lean down and kiss Touma.

He pulled the blanket over Touma, and walked out into the living room.

Seiji sat down on the couch. A sensation came over his whole body, a feeling he had not felt since being a soldier. The memory of this feeling was so exciting to him, that he was almost heartbroken to remember how much he did not really ever feel this, if anything, anymore. He began to shiver.

It was a feeling of the need to protect. A powerful feeling, one that had consumed him for so long, because it was hard to control. It blurred the lines between purpose and obsession. In becoming sick, he had come to terms with its loss. But he was, some ways, healthier for having lost it.

He did not know if he could accept this feeling again. He did not know if he could move on from what had once consumed him. If he could betray his original feelings, and make something new.

Touma had promised to make him good as new.

\---

Yayoi came to visit the day after they moved in. Touma had walked through the door, after a tiring day of classes and thoughts of Seiji and Ryo on his mind, to find her and Seiji sitting at the dining room table speaking softly, holding hands.

They rose as Touma walked in and turned to take his shoes off, face to the floor as he slouched to let go of several bags on his shoulder. 

“Tadaima.”

“Okaeri, Touma,” he heard Seiji’s voice from behind him.

Touma lifted his head to be both startled by Seiji’s smiling face, and Yayoi, who did not smile, but instead stood, hands reservedly clasped in front, and with an expression that gave away no emotion, only her own sense of a restrained properness from now being a home that was not hers, but still her brothers. In any event, he had forgotten she was going to be here today, and by showing such surprise, he had already set up this visit for failure.

“Ya---Yayoi…”

“Hello, Hashiba-san,” Yayoi bowed towards him, prompting Touma to scramble to mimic the same, without the same silent grace. 

She looked up at him again. “You’ve grown so much. I haven’t seen you since Oniichan’s birthday in Sendai four years ago.”

Touma struggled to make small conversation. He not only hated it in everyday situations, but with a woman like Yayoi whose properness pressured him to match her in a robotic, unnatural way, it drove him downright crazy.

“I remember that party. How’s the family?”

This question gave her some pause, and it was not lost to Touma that her eyes moved upon Seiji, a quick glance that meant to say truthfully everything that was happening with the family.

“Well,” she hesitated, as she was thoughtful in crafting her response, “the family is strong, as they always are, and together they are making sure the estate continues to be a place of work and pride. I’m sure you can imagine it being hard without myself or Seiji being there…”

He wanted to respond, to reiterate to her what he had learned of her from Seiji, that she was now a graduate of medical school, with a new job at a hospital, but as he thought about these things, his energy to pursue the topic seemed to simmer down. They all knew why she was here.

“Would anyone like to eat dinner? Oneesan, there’s a café downstairs. I would cook, but we seem to have no pots or pans at the moment…”

“I was hoping to have a word Hashiba-san,” she turned to look Touma in the eyes. “Just us.” 

Seiji nodded in understanding and retired to his room to write and give them privacy in the living room. As he left, what little kind energy in the room seemed to leave with him. What remained were two old, serious souls, and a dimming evening sky.

They sat on opposite ends of the couch, Yayoi with her hands folded in her lap, Touma with his right arm propped heavy on the arm rest.

“Did you just come home from classes?”

Touma rested his head into hand, and leaned looking away. “Yeah, it’s my first semester.”

“And how is he?”

“Sporadic dizzy spells, some minor fatigue. During the summer he was hit with a serious episode of sudden movement loss. An attack from his body, on his own body.”

“Auto-immune.”

“Yes, auto-immune. But due to other kinds of symptoms, I’ve ruled out all obvious auto-immune diseases at this time.”

“Have you done anything to address these ailments yet?”

“I have him on general medication to help combat fatigue, a steroid to block any potential attacks on his mobility. He has a daily regiment, using a light amount of weights and resistance, to prevent loss of movement. His writing and reading keep his mind sharp—“

“And do you have a long-term plan?” She cut in. 

His eyes shifted toward her, and she was staring back, an unwavering, intense gaze. 

“Yes,” he held her gaze. “I do.”

He could feel her eyes scan him, study him. She was searching for any hint of uncertainty. As she came to realize there wasn’t any, her face softened and she looked away.

“I trust you, Hashiba-san.”

He noticed both of her hands curl into tight fists. 

“Despite being a doctor myself,” she continued. “I cannot with any logical reason assist in the research or care of my brother. I wish I was strong enough to separate myself from the connection, as you are, but I fear my emotions would only get in the way. We are but a small group of people aware of my brother’s real history, and of that group, we are the only two who can rise to the challenge. I am not afraid to admit that it would be hard for me, too much.” 

He realized he was staring, and as she turned to meet his eyes again, he sat upright. He felt in this moment like this was it, this was his official commitment. As if moving in and changing careers wasn’t enough.

“You are the only one, Hashiba-san. On behalf of my family, I am placing all my trust on you to help him.” 

The deep violet of her eyes became lighter as tears filled them, though they did not fall. She sighed heavily. “He has lost so much already.”

Touma’s mind went back to the previous night, when he had promised Seiji he would make him good as new. His heart ached in that moment not for the revelation that had been on his mind all day, but for the image of his friend, crying harder than he had ever seen him cry before. He had seen Seiji in life or death situations, tortuous situations that would make a normal man deeply depressed for the rest of his life. If Seiji were to experience pain, he did not ever want him to cry that way again, if he could try. 

“You can trust me.” She was shocked by his calm demeanor. “I’ve made a commitment. I don’t plan to break it. Or fail.”

Her hazy eyes seemed to clear as she absorbed his confident, cool response. He could almost feel as though such confidence had gone beyond her expectations. She nodded, agreeably, several times.

“On behalf of my family, thank you, Hashiba-san. Thank you.”

“I just ask,” he continued, “that you give me the proper space to figure this out, and let me work on my plan. Do not share anything with the rest of his family. It will only worry them, but more importantly, him.”

First confused, Yayoi nodded in understanding. “I can respect your request, if you promise to keep me, and me alone, updated on the state of my brother.”

“I can agree to that.”

Yayoi let out a labored breath, as if something difficult had just passed. 

“Our family hasn’t been the same since my brother left. My mother cries, Satsuki has taken her anger out in unexpected ways, grandfather is quieter. I am not there every day but I hear about it from father, and its hard at times to pretend I don’t speak to Seiji. This has been a difficult year. But looking at you, Hashiba-san, your resolute. I can leave here today feeling better, more hopeful.”

Touma did not know what to say, except to look down in his lap and feel the pressure of Yayoi’s words.

“I must ask, Hashiba-san,” her voice cut through the thick of the moment. “Why? I know you and brother are best friends and comrades. But I also know you were a bright astronomy major. Why are you so invested?”

He could’ve told her the truth, if he was the kind to do that. He could have if he were able to even articulate it himself, which he really couldn’t. He felt it was obvious, and to be honest, he was sick of being asked why.

“The same reason you came here today,” he responded. “That’s why.”

She wasn’t convinced by his answer, but she stood up anyway, a polite half-smile crossing her face. She reached out her hand as he stood as well, shaking it.

“Then we have an arrangement, Hashiba-san.” She looked around. “I just ask now that you please buy my brother some more…elegant furniture. And proper cooking supplies.”

“I’ll start on that right away,” he grinned.

Yayoi went to go find Seiji in his room. As their shake ended and their hands let go, and she walked off, the weight of it all began to feel official. Touma was the only one in the world now who was fit to save Seiji. Seiji’s own family had made it so.

\---

Yayoi entered Seiji’s room to find him lying under his comforter, reading. She stood in the doorframe smiling. Moments later, he looked up and smiled back. The same reason she was here, she thought to herself.

“Oneesan, hungry yet?”

She crossed into the room and sat at the end of the bed. “Not yet. But Hashiba-san ran to the store to buy you cooking supplies. I figured it would be nice to make a recipe from home, just for you.”

Seiji shook his head, laughing. “I hope you weren’t too hard on him.”

“No, I promise I wasn’t,” she replied. She paused, and then spoke again, with careful thoughtfulness. “Do you think Hashiba-san is hard on himself?”

Seiji looked down. “I do. Why, did he say anything? Is he okay?”

“I can say from just observing him that he is in need of rest, perhaps more water and nutrients. He’s a solitary person. Protective of his own thoughts. But,” she paused, noticing how Seiji absorbed her words. “He is incredibly responsible. And, I trust him. Anyone who works this hard for my brother has my respect.”

He sighed with relief. “I’m so glad.”

“I am curious about Touma’s real motives, however,” she mused. “Why he has given up so much for you. Have you ever given much thought to that?”

“What’re you saying, Oneesan?”

“I know I am smarter than you, little brother, but not that much smarter. A friend does not just give up his whole life for another friend, no matter the circumstances. Hashiba-san cares deeply for you.”

Seiji turned his face away from Yayoi, and looked out the window, concentrating. If he had ever thought Touma had any feelings for him, he seemed to always push those thoughts aside. They all loved each other, as friends and comrades. 

But he did think back to the night Touma found him outside the karaoke bar. He didn’t just find him, he followed him. And though Touma was often a serious person, his reaction made Seiji feel as though his pain were happening to Touma as well. It just didn’t register with Seiji at the time how quickly Touma took action on all of this, or why. Or how looking back on it all, he couldn’t help but feel affection for the way he was so quickly taken care of by Touma.

“What did he say to you?” was Seiji’s only response.

“He didn’t say anything directly to me, but his dedication to this has said more than enough.”

Seiji remained quiet and continued to stare out into the now night sky. Through the light pollution, he could make out a few stars. 

He was thinking again, about that moment in time when he watched helplessly from the ground as Ryo attempted to ride Arago’s cannons into space. The way his heart shattered when the cannon exploded, and he thought for sure Ryo was dead. He realized not only did he lose Ryo forever, but Touma was trapped in space. He had never felt more alone, even when he still had Shuu, Shin and Nasuti there. The real thought of having lost them both...

“Oniichan.” Seiji, woken from this memory, turned to Yayoi. “If I am right about Hashiba-san, do you feel the same way?”

Yayoi watched as Seiji clenched the comforter and fought to remain poised, a nervous tic that she had mastered identifying. This gesture of his did not necessarily validate her assumptions, but she knew there was no way he hadn’t thought about the possibility that Touma had feelings for him. It's just he did not think it was possible, considering all he had ever observed between Touma and Ryo. But still, Seiji thought, it was Touma who was willingly here now, with him.

“He’s always only ever been my best friend,” he urged. “And I’ve only ever held my feelings in check, when I was training to be master for the family dojo.”

“Yes,” Yayoi responded. “But you renounced your ownership. You do not have to keep your feelings in check, if you do not wish.”

“Then my feelings,” Seiji’s voice was muffled, almost a whisper as he fought to portray to Yayoi a sense of himself without having to say it aloud, but hoping she’d just know. “Are not for Touma.”

Yayoi realized this conversation had made Seiji upset, and she did not wish to make him feel anything that could threaten his emotional or physical state. She took his hand in hers.

“I meant only to let you know that you have someone now watching over you, who is dedicated. I have no fear that he will do what’s best for you and your health. As your older sister, I am telling you what is best. And Hashiba-san’s commitment has given me confidence.”

Yayoi had always been a loving hard-ass to Seiji, an older sister who saw potential in him and never wanted him to get too self-assured without a good beating. His illness had stripped all of that away. 

She leaned toward Seiji and wrapped her arms around him. They hugged, for what seemed like forever. As if to transfer a hug from everyone back home in Sendai from her body to his. 

Seiji clung to her, and clasped his eyes shut. He was fighting not let the emotions that sprang up last night resurface again. The sad irony that he was in some ways free to express himself openly, but too sick to show himself. Not to Ryo. 

At this point, it was too soon to say aloud, even to himself, that the further away he was from Ryo, the further his sense of duty seemed leave him. To him it was treason to the commitment of being a soldier, of his very soul. But here he was now, sick and unsure and lost in a new home, an unfamiliar room.

He refused to let go.

\---

Seiji never forgot Yayoi's first visit and what she had said. It had changed everything Seiji knew and expected of Touma, and he knew it had made him grow purposely distant of his friend. He was terrified to betray the feelings he had always held for Ryo. Being a soldier, and protecting Ryo, his leader, was his whole purpose. It was why he was born. He could not stray from his very destiny.

He was not supposed to be sick, or live with Touma. These were temporary things.

Seiji could sense that the darkness outside was turning into daylight. He pulled his robe close to his body, and walked over to the window to open up the curtains, which filled the room with the yellow glow of a rising sun. A warm rush of memory from the night before flushed through Seiji’s mind, and in the reflection of the window, he caught himself smiling. 

“Seiji?”

The bedroom door creaked open, and Touma crept out. He was wearing the clothes he wore from last night, but his hair was tossed about and his eyelids drooped with a very apparent tiredness. 

Still, however, their eyes met. Seiji could not look away. Their gazes only broke when Touma finally cocked his head to the side in self-awareness. In the half dark of the new morning, Seiji could see Touma’s eyes darting around, unsure of how to act.

Seiji was overcome with how self-conscious he had become when he now looked at Touma. He had known this man for years, and never thought twice about how to act around him. Now, he was nervous to say or do anything. He felt, down to the molecular level of his very body, a shaking, electric pulse, charged by the very words and gestures of someone who should only have ever been his friend.

“You need to sleep,” Touma finally said. He spoke in a gentle tone, not often, if ever used. And knowing this, stirred the electric sensation beneath Seiji's skin further.

“I know,” Seiji replied. “I…knew I wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep.”

“Oh,” Touma looked down, and Seiji realized he had phrased his words in a way he didn’t intend.

“No--I…I didn’t mean it like that.”

Seiji crossed the room towards Touma, who seemed to freeze up at Seiji's sudden movement. Without making eye contact, Touma shyly reached his hand out and placed it on Seiji’s forehead.

“Do you…feel okay?”

“Yes,” he smiled. “I do.”

The room continued to become brighter as the sun rose higher and higher. For a moment, Seiji observed the way Touma fought to not let Seiji see any kind of reaction of his face. In the past, this predictable trait of Touma’s had made him angry and even resentful, but under new circumstances, he found it endearing.

Touma finally turned his head to look, and Seiji could see that his eyes were slowly scanning every inch of his face, as if fighting to cram for a test. Or as if he were trying to recapture within his memory the whirlwind of events that had now occurred between the two. With each eye movement, he became more overwhelmed and broke away. He darted for the kitchen.

“I’ll make you tea, before I go."

“What do you mean? Go where?”

“I have to run to the lab. Just quickly. It's something important, something that I can't wait on anymore. I'll be back later today."

"I see," Seiji tried to not sound too disappointed. He trusted Touma would not go if it were not important.

Touma brought the tea and Seiji’s current morning regiment of medicines. As he placed the items on the coffee table, he caught a flashing red light on the phone. Someone had left a message. As Seiji prepared his tea, he watched Touma hesitantly listen to the message and proceed to contort his face and huff in anger. Seiji knew then it was Genichirou.

“The bastard won’t leave me alone, will he?” Touma sighed.

“Maybe it’s important,” Seiji replied. 

“Well,” Touma sighed again, “I don’t exactly have the time for him.”

Seiji winced at this remark. It reminded him, as many things did, of the ways in which his illness made life difficult for others. 

Touma walked to the door and slipped on his coat and shoes. 

"When I get back, I’ll call him. Even if it’s to get him off my back. And maybe…” Touma’s face softened, and his voice lowered to a whisper. “We can talk about that trip."

These words were like a gift to Seiji. The slow, lingering weirdness of the morning left his foggy mind, as he remembered the things he needed to write, the calls he had to make. There were suddenly things to look forward to. He felt compelled to stand and turn towards Touma, and with a smile he could not hide or control, said thank you.

"No," Touma said as he wrapped the emerald green scarf around his neck, "I should thank you, Seiji."

Their eyes met once more, and this time, Touma did not look away. Surely, he too, was charged with electricity from the night they had spent together. Within each others eyes was a burning glow inspired by the realization that something new was happening between them.

As Touma left and the door shut, Seiji's knees began shake, and he quickly sat himself back down. Though he felt some kind of joy from the newness of what was happening, he also felt a lingering sadness as he realized that things were changing in ways he did not ever intend.

The universe would not make Seiji suffer through this random illness for no reason. Just as he was born to protect Ryo, so too was this experience trying to tell him something. And he was willing to accept it, if that is what the universe had asked of him, and if it meant giving reason to his losing everything up to this point.

What was he gaining?


	10. Chapter 10

It agonized him to leave the apartment so early. But something compelled him to leave. Something told him to trust his instinct. And even more deep down than that, he felt he needed to leave, just for a little bit, to absorb what had happened between him and Seiji.

The more Touma thought about it, the urgency of his pace rose. 

\--

Touma slipped into the office. Sure, he was underdressed, but he didn’t hope to stay long and hopefully there would be few people in the office to see him dressed so casually. 

As he crossed the floor, the office was just as empty as he had hoped. Working for a pharmaceutical company, most employees were able to take Saturdays off or work from home. Having a two-day weekend made the blow of working for such an intense, cutthroat company a little more bearable for Touma. 

He sat down at his desk and began to dig through his filing cabinet. He pulled out notebooks and folders, thick as loaves of bread, held closed only by a rubber band. He thumbed through each stack, until he finally came across what he was looking for: his contract. 

But then something else caught his eye. A card, from Nasuti. Wishing him luck with his new job. 

It was a classic bit of caregiving from her: take care, do your best. If you need anything, call. 

Touma paused, his mind wandering further into the past than he normally cared for. He thought back to the years he spent in Nasuti’s home, the six of them – well, seven, and Byaukun – with so much time and so much at stake. The hours they spent training, studying, strategizing. Waiting. 

There was one time…Nasuti had showed him her grandfather’s library. A massive wealth of rare, historical archives and books on the history of the spirit world and of the samurai. They had spent hours pouring over books, and Nasuti had felt comfortable enough to show him her grandfather’s personal notes. 

And in a flash, he could see it: some kind of chart, a graph. Lightly colored, but clearly representing the five ancient armors. Red, green, orange, light and dark blue. He remembered it meant something…

He sat up, scrambling for his desk phone. He needed to call Nasuti, immediately-

“Hashiba-san, so strange to see you here on a Saturday!”

The booming, deep voice behind Touma was his boss, Akise-san.

Touma swung around in his chair, stood up and bowed. Akise-san bowed back.

“Sir, “ Touma left no room for hesitation. He looked Akise-san directly in the eyes. 

“We need to talk.”

\--

“Touma, don’t!”

Seiji sat straight up. Realizing his left hand was outstretched; he threw his arm back in embarrassment. He closed his eyes, leaned back, and placed his right hand on his chest. His heart was racing. A cool breeze from the open balcony brushed his robe, which was drenched with sweat, against him and he shivered from the contact. 

With caution, Seiji raised himself from the couch and crossed to the balcony. Looking out, he could see rows of birds flying in the distance, returning from their winter migration. Behind them was a pink and teal sky. 

He had always adored this time of day – that time between the brightness of day and the cloak of night. It was only at that time that the earth’s colors comingled so peacefully – a loving embrace of the otherwise stark colors of red, blue, and green.

The clock read five in the evening. How long had he been asleep? And where was Touma?

In the dimming room, he saw the green flash of the phone’s answering machine. He hurried over, and was surprised to see three messages were waiting. 

The first message came as no surprise. Again, it was Genichirou. He didn’t sound angry, just impatient. He was almost starting to feel bad for the guy. Seiji sighed and opted to save the message. 

He started the second message. 

“Seiji, hi. It’s Touma.”

As always, Seiji could hear the constant urgency in Touma’s voice. That flustered sternness that seemed to always be on. 

“I hope you’re okay. I’m not panicking, because I know you’re probably outside in your garden or napping.”

Seiji smiled.

“I’m still at the lab. But I hope to be out soon. Probably home by five. I know, I need to relax. I promise…tomorrow. Tomorrow. We’ll do something. I’ll see you later.”

The message made him feel strange, warm. That feeling that possessed him before drifting off on the couch. A spark of newness. 

But before Seiji could contextualize these thoughts any further, the machine beeped and the next message began.

“Touma, Touma, you never answer your phone.”

The familiar voice caused Seiji to gasp. 

“It’s cool. Listen, I know we don’t talk as much but I know that probably has to do with all of my travelling now. And for once I am actually home for a decent amount of time. I thought maybe we could meet up for a drink and catch up.”

There was a long pause in the message. In that brief moment, Seiji could picture it: Ryo, embarrassed, placing his hand to the back of his head. Shuffling his feet. And finally, chuckling, in that self-deprecating way that only Ryo would.

The silence broke with Ryo’s laugh. 

“You’re probably so busy. Saving the world. Some of us can just never escape it.” 

Ryo laughed again. He was nervous, Seiji could tell. He had never heard Ryo speak so slowly, or so thoughtfully choose his words. He was trying to find the right things to say, the things that Touma would hear. 

“Hope to hear from you soon. Bye.”

And he was gone. 

\---

Touma exited the office in disbelief. He couldn’t believe how easy that was. He had come to the office, demanded his superior’s time, and explained in no uncertain terms that it was time for him to be allowed to focus on his independent study. 

Akise-san did not hesitate to say yes. Touma had convinced him of the importance of his study. 

Things were happening. His hard work was paying off. He was going to save Seiji. Seiji was going to live a long, long time. His full, nature-given life. 

He may even want to live his life with him. 

Touma decided to take a cab home, stopping on the way for take out to surprise Seiji. As he stepped out of the ramen shop, a corner market caught his eye. The shop was surrounded by fragrant bouquets of pink and green and purple and yellow, and one particular bouquet stood out.

It was an entirely blue bouquet of irises and hydrangeas and bluebells and delphiniums and oxford blues. The flowers were intertwined among thick green leaves and baby’s breath and bundled together tightly in purple wrapping. It was the largest bouquet among hundreds of others, but the only blue one.

Touma stood in a daze, transfixed in admiration. He felt joy. He felt satisfaction. He felt the awareness of being in awe at something purely for its unreal, yet natural, beauty. It had been years since he recognized such a feeling.

He bought them with no regrets.

\---

Seiji began to worry when it was well after five and Touma hadn’t come home yet. He was about to phone Touma’s office when he heard the key click of the door.

As Seiji turned, he saw Touma standing in the entryway, holding the large blue bouquet. It was hard to tell where the blue flowers of the bouquet ended and the blue of Touma’s hair began.

“Touma…” Seiji stood frozen. “Okaeri.”

“Tadaima, Seiji.” Touma quickly slipped his shoes off and crossed to Seiji. As he stood before Seiji and looked down upon him, he could see Seiji was flustered, even turning red. He could see Seiji trying to think of what to say.

“What’re these?” 

Before Seiji could receive an answer, Touma bent down and kissed him. He did not hesitate or fumble or nervously inch his way towards Seiji. He pressed his mouth to Seiji’s and as he did so, he felt Seiji melt against him, into him. 

As Touma pulled himself away, he looked down and saw Seiji’s eyes still closed. 

Touma continued to stare right into Seiji’s eyes as he finally opened them. Without further hesitation, Touma gently placed the bouquet in Seiji’s hands, allowing their fingers to overlap as he did so. 

For you, he said.


End file.
